


A Cursed Blessing

by Sci3ntific



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, F/M, Ginny Weasley Bashing, Hogwarts, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Molly Weasley Bashing, Powerful Harry Potter, Powerful Hermione Granger, Powerful Neville Longbottom, Rituals, Ron Weasley Bashing, bond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sci3ntific/pseuds/Sci3ntific
Summary: Harry Potter enters the Magical World with more power and knowledge than anyone would have expected, and with a power, an ability called eidetic memory. An ability that could be both a curse and a blessing. With his best friend since childhood, Hermione Granger, by his side, he faces troubles that aren't always Voldemort-related. HHr, Dumbledore!Bashing, Weasley!Bashing
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 43
Kudos: 267





	1. Chapter I

Chapter I

The early morning sun bestowed its young, glistering, yellow sun rays through the edges of the small, green curtain dangling from the skinny thread of string neatly tied to each side of the window, the rays were the only indication Harry Potter needed, to know that it was finally early morning, as he was taking no chances in using a battery charged alarm clock which would have definitely woke up the Dursleys.

A wave of his muscular arm caused the curtain to shift its position into a further, more exposing position allowing all the available rays of the cheery sun to flow freely into the smallest room of the Dursleys' house at Number 4 Privet Drive in Surrey. It sent a warm and peaceful atmosphere into the room which was a particularly good way to start a new day.

And it was one Harry Potter desperately needed.

For he needed everything to be as peaceful and calm as possible especially after the flashback he had, one from the night of Halloween 1981, the night his mother and his father were murdered by the psychotic maniac by the name of Tom Riddle.

Yes, Harry Potter knew everything about Lord Voldemort mostly due to the fact that he had an ability called eidetic memory, he had heard the little, ushered conversations between his parents and Uncle Padfoot in the little cottage in Godric's Hollow, about the foul man who wanted him dead because of some sort of prophecy that had been made. He had remembered every day, and the worse one was the day - or rather, night - that Lord Voldemort had come and murdered his dad on the staircase and then his mum in front of him, and the night kept repeating in his mind, slowly killing him and tearing his sanity apart with each night. And the worst part was...

He couldn't help it.

But nothing in the Dursleys' household - especially with a pig in it - could have guarantee anything close to the verb: peaceful; it was an outrageous a thought as it was as a hope, as much as they tried their best to ignore him, they were very aggravating and no less, infuriating. They wanted for Harry to perhaps lose his temper and be destructive, which would give them a perfect excuse to apply their little methods of 'discipline'.

But Harry had learned to keep his cool and keep his emotions and magic under control with the help of advanced meditation and shutting the thoughts of wanting to snap on his so-called family, out of his brain so he could concentrate on more important things like books and - of course - his wonderful art of magic.

He always knew that he had magic within him, but unfortunately, he didn't know any spells like the ones his mother and father had done with their wands to cheer him up whenever he was upset as a baby. But he still knew how to preform magic, with the art of intent. He just had to imagine how what he wanted the outcome to be, or what he wanted, move his hands a little, and bam, he would have it done! He called in Hand Magic, or Wandless Magic.

But the Dursleys weren't exactly fond of magic — more of gravely despised, they had made it clear – really clear – that they didn't want him to show his 'freakish abnormalities' (as they put it) to them because they hated it, it wasn't as if he wanted to show them any of it anyway. They were rather scared of it.

And he used that to his own benefit.

For he had made a deal with Uncle Vernon. A deal that insured him his own bedroom – rather than the little cupboard he used to sleep in that was poorly placed under the stairs - and he ensured them their breakfast and dinner, and despite the fact that he might unintentionally burn himself...

The bedroom was certainly worth it, though.

It was a good-sized bedroom to him, even though it was the smallest of the four in Number 4 Privet Drive, the walls were decorated with many little shelves that once held the broken junk and toys that were once Dudley's. Harry had thrown them away into the Recycling Bin just outside Privet Drive, and replaced them with books he had bought with his own money from working chores for the neighbors.

Harry got up quickly and did some morning stretches before letting out a soft yawn, although he didn't permit himself to do so all the time. He pulled out his blue trainers from under the bed while he waved his hand and an armless grey hoodie and a black jogging pants landed on his small and comfortable bed, he was getting ready to do his exercises.

Harry Potter was very muscular for a ten year old boy, and had very had unbelievably toned body for his age – even if he hadn't reached puberty as yet. His hair was raven-black and as messy as ever like he remembered his father's to be, while he had his mother's eyes. Even though they weren't related – by blood and name at least – he had his godfather's – Sirius Black – strong jawline. He preferred to call the man, Uncle Padfoot, though.

He grinned to himself as he looked in the mirror, he was quite proud of his body shape and his strength. He was sure that he exercised a lot yes, but sometimes, it seemed as though he got stronger magically – but he wasn't sure that was the cause.

He pulled out his watch and noted that it was 6:05. The Dursleys weren't supposed to be awake for an hour or two from now, since it was a Saturday, and Harry knew them to sleep in on a day like today, he wouldn't blame them either, there was peaceful energy surging through the house, which was – without a doubt – something rather unusual in the Dursleys household, but Harry was scared, scared of going to sleep and reliving the worse night of his entire life - his ability was a curse rather than a blessing sometimes.

So Harry silently jogged down the old wooden staircase of Number 4 Privet Drive, fortunately avoiding the creaky steps, and finally, he opened the front door with an inaudible creak.

The morning wind hit him as he sighed contentedly, he closed the door behind him with a flick of his hand and started doing some warm-up stretches twisting his upper torso, touching his toes, pulling his hand over his head and between his shoulder blades, and very soon, he was finally ready.

He pulled on his hoodie and began jogging as his feet finally found the hard and hot pavement, a few well-known turns and jumps later he was in a rhythmic jog through the suburban city in the outskirts of Surrey. He checked his watch with a raspy breath and nodded as the hot sweat dripped down his forehead and built a bridge between his two neat brows, and then he found what he was looking for, the Surrey Park, it was relatively small compared to other National Parks countrywide but it was enough for Harry, it was nice and peaceful, calming and subtle, just the way he liked it, he made his way into the park avoiding all contact with the other morning joggers — who were all rather lazy, having stopped jogging every second to take a 'well-deserved break', as he had heard one of them whisper to the other. Avoiding all of the surprised glances, Harry continued to jog along the concrete pathway, stopping at intervals to sprint a little. After taking a short break, Harry continued his routine: push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and much more. He finished soon and sighed softly, his body aching with pleasurable pain as he conjured a bottle of water and gulped it down in two swings.

After jogging the way back, Harry returned silently to Number 4 Privet Drive where he tiptoed to his bedroom. He sighed, thankful that he hadn't awoken anyone in the Dursley family, and silently plunked down on his bed as he caught his breath. With a swing of his hand, multiple attires swung out from a closet and floated in front of him, waiting for him to pick one of them.

He finally settled for a green silky pair of pants that perfectly matched his eyes and a black t-shirt that matched his hair, he summoned his white, fluffy towel and walked towards the bathroom of the house. The bathroom of Number 4 Privet Drive was small and only had a tiled, glass shower and a toilet along with a cupboard filled with toothbrushes - that also acted as a first aid kit - and a sink with a drill themed faucet – which was due to Uncle Vernon's obsession with his job as the salesman at a local drilling company called: Grunnings.

Harry silently shed his clothes and placed them in the laundry basket that had been just for him – The Freak's Basket as Dudley and Uncle Vernon had called it constantly. When he finally entered the glass shower he turned it on and let the water fall freely on him, he raised his head hoping that maybe the water would wash away his sorrows, the nightmares – or rather the memories – the pain of his aching lightning bolt scar and the aches of the wounds that Vernon Dursley had caused with his hands and his weapons.

He wanted his mum. He wanted his dad. He wanted Uncle Padfoot or Uncle Moony. There was this other guy. Uncle Wormy, Harry had believed him to be, but Harry didn't like him, he didn't seem trustworthy to Harry, although Uncle Padfoot, Uncle Moony, and mum and dad had liked him and really trusted him a lot. But to Harry he certainly didn't seem trustworthy – more like pathetically dimwitted and scared – he looked like the time of a person to hide behind someone of great power, someone who could protect him from harm.

Harry shook his head summoned his bottle of shampoo – which he hid under his bed back in his small room – and poured the thick, pink liquid onto his hair and massage it in, it was deeply pleasurable. Deeply pleasurable indeed. He cleaned himself properly and took his towel - which he had hung on a metal rack – and dried his hair and then he wrapped it around his waist, making his way to his bedroom.

After neatly dressing, he ruffled his hair and went to the kitchen of the house, and took out, what needed to be taken out.

And he began cooking.

He rather enjoyed the art of cooking actually, it was something he was very good at and although the Dursleys didn't show or say it he was a very good chef, but he wasn't eating any of this fatty rubbish! So he got out some vegetables and began frying them up together while the bacon began to sizzle and a metal spoon started to look after the egg on its own accord.

"Eeek!" It was Aunt Petunia, Good Morning to her too. She always hated magic – they all did.

So Harry took his magically moving spoon and began looking after the egg himself while his other hand switched to and from the bacon and his vegetables, he gave Aunt Petunia – who had opened her eyes to see if it was over – a sincere but very and clearly strained smile.

"Good Morning, Aunt Petunia." He greeted her with a curt nod, the woman with the record of the longest neck in the world – Harry constantly humored himself with that thought – and blonde hair just breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

"Don't burn anything." She huffed angrily and crossed her arms as she looked down at her nephew, she was so ungrateful for everything he had done in this life for them, how rude. "It's my little Duddykinns Birthday!"

Ah yes! How could he have possibly forgotten that today was the world's third most unfortunate day? Of course after his parents' death and the day he was brought to their dirty doorstep.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, holding in a heavy sigh, how much he really wanted to let it out but it would've really caused trouble, "I won't burn the food," he confirmed mentally rolling his eye — that would've caused a world of trouble and cause him a few drops of unwilling given blood.

The woman huffed in annoyance for some unknown reason and walked to her small kitchen garden just outside the circular little porch attached to the little house. Harry directed his attention back to his food and decided that his vegetables were finally finished so he took them off the stove before turning off the bacon as well, doing the same as he did with the vegetables, he then blinked as though he had forgotten something important and just remembered it.

That's because he did.

He groaned and looked over his shoulder to see Aunt Petunia's attention was drawn to her little kitchen garden so he took out two pairs of bread, and buttered them, and placed them on the little grill that had been attached to the counter, he used his magic to silence it so that it wouldn't attract Aunt Petunia, he flicked his hand and while he finished up with the egg, two slices of cheese flew out from the fridge and landed on the bread which made itself a sandwich.

It was for his best friend. Hermione Granger.

Hermione Granger was a bookish girl his age with very bushy hair and buck teeth, he didn't know why but he liked how they looked on her, he thought they looked cute. She could do magic too, but accidentally and not on purpose, Harry figured it was because Hand Magic or Wandless Magic — which he preferred to call it — was a hard feat to meet. She didn't tell her parents about it because she was scared of their reaction to her being a witch, they were the best of friends, and inseparable some might say.

And today he was going to meet her, somehow he was desperate for her, she always made the pain go away, both physically — when his muscles are sore from exercise, which she becomes all cross about — and mentally — to which she treats it with a song — and Harry loved her voice so much he thought he might go crazy, so soft and sweet; peaceful and subtle; filled with passion and bliss. They would go to the park and he would push her on the swings or they'd sit by a tree her head on his shoulder and they'd read together, or sometimes she would read for him to calm him down if he was angry or upset, or if he had a flashback.

For his accident magic disastrously chaotic.

There was this time when Dudley had called her sly names and a tree had caught afire while the thunder roared above or the time when he had caused a mini tsunami when they went to the beach and Hermione told him that her parents — who never knew Harry ever existed — were arguing with her for something.

But Hermione was there for him. To calm him down. And he never wanted her to leave. Ever.

And she had promised him exactly that one day when he accidentally blurted it out for no reason — he was just thinking hard about it when it slipped out his tongue, but she just smiled at him and pecked his cheek for the first — and definitely not the last — time, and promised that she was always going to be there for him, and she was never going to leave.

And the weird part was, she could literally kiss away the pain.

For one day when he had gotten in a fight with Dudley in the playground when he had gone too far by saying Hermione was insensible and deeply arrogant and insufferable. Dudley had swung hard at Harry's jaw before Harry finished him and Hermione had come to look after him when she all of a sudden kissed his jaw where it was red and it just healed.

And he might have hurt himself intentionally a few times before, mainly because he wanted her to kiss it away. And he couldn't explain why.

Harry finished plating the Dursleys' food quickly and snapped away from the sandwiches to his bedroom to wait for him. He nodded in approval of his fine job and got to work on Uncle Vernon's morning coffee. After carefully placing them all on the dining table, Aunt Petunia came in, she looked at all the food with a hint of approval in her eyes and she looked at Harry and nodded.

Harry nodded and made his way to get his vegetables when the door to the kitchen was viciously swung open and in came the fattest kid in Privet Drive.

No, that can't be right.

Fattest kid in Little Whinging.

No, that can't be right either.

Fattest kid in Surrey.

Now that was surely incorrect.

Fattest kid in Britain?

Nope.

Fattest kid in Europe?

Close enough but acceptable. Dudley Dursley pushed passed Harry and excitedly made his way over to his mountain of presents, it looked as though Dudley had gotten his new computer, along with his second television and racing bike, but that didn't make any sense, no sense at all, Dudley wasn't interested in physical activities — unless it was all these years ago when he used Harry as a punching bag, that was before Harry thought himself self-defense — although Harry still got his fair bit of punches from the pig nowadays when he was angered and didn't get his way, which was — not to mention —particularly rare.

Uncle Vernon came in through the door next — although he could barely fit through without getting himself stuck — he looked at Harry and grunted as his way of 'good morning' or just 'oh you're not dead yet' he looked at the table and saw all the delicious food prepared and waiting and then he looked back at Harry and narrowed his eyes — if they could get narrowed without his cheek swallowing his eye socket.

He went and said his good mornings to his wife and son — who he added birthday greetings to — and began eating his food and drinking his coffee at intervals while Aunt Petunia did the same — except for the coffee — and Dudley started counting his presents — too caught up to eat for the first time in his life ever since Aunt Marge had bought him a new video game.

"Thirty-six!?" An outraged Dudley Dursley asked, his breath quickening as he looked at his two parents — who looked at each other and gulped — with confusion, impatience, and anger all rolled up into one ball as big as Uncle Vernon's tummy, "But last year — last year I had thirty-five!"

Harry sensed a Dudley tantrum making its way and he rolled his eyes as he ate some of his vegetables and drank some Orange Juice he had conjured, but Aunt Petunia was just as fast to see the same thing and she wasted no time in stopping an infamous Dudley Tantrum.

"But you haven't counted the one from Aunt Marge as yet, sweetikins!" She said quickly and ran to her oversized little boy and fixed his hair and bow.

"Fine — but that's only thirty-seven!" He retorted quickly, Harry sighed — earning a glare from Uncle Vernon — and Aunt Petunia rattled her brain for an answer.

"Here's what we'll do!" She said excitedly, "When we go out later with your friend to the zoo, we'll buy you two more presents, okay?" She asked, Harry raised his eyebrows and shook his head, suppressing a sigh before Uncle Vernon spanked him behind the neck back.

"Ok..." Dudley held out his fingers and began confusingly counting his fingers, "That makes... Thirty...? Thirty — err?"

"Thirty-nine, Duddykinns!" Aunt Petunia giggled and touched her son's nose before getting back to her food.

Then all of a sudden — like some button had been pressed — they all turned towards Harry — who was reading The Tales of Sherlock Holmes by Albert Rufendro — which he had summoned from his bedroom — the Dursleys all had scowls on their faces as if books were him, preforming magic, it was Uncle Vernon who first spoke.

"Today's Duddykinns' birthday, boy," he stated, "That's why I'm not letting you come with us — no matter how much you beg — so find yourself in your room or just get out of our sight as quickly as possible, and do not try and acting smart or you'll have to face the consequences of your actions, am I understood?" He asked, Harry just stared at him amusingly as he chewed on a carrot, it wasn't as if he had wanted to go with them anywhere, where did Uncle Vernon possibly have gotten that idea from?

Harry choked a chortle and nodded — almost frantically, "I'll be in the park, with Hermione."


	2. Chapter II

Chapter II

Soon, Harry had left the Dursleys' house with his and - Hermione's sandwiches in hand, and the library book with the many Sherlock Holmes tales and one he had borrowed from Hermione's own personal collection, one based on the interesting subject called Physics, a subject he had grown rather close to as he grew up. There was just something about Physics that intrigued him – not that the Dursleys believed he could even read, he remembered once when Uncle Vernon had snorted when he had demanded to see what 'filth' Harry had brought into his house.

With Privet Drive far in the distance – exactly where he liked it to be – Harry trotted out towards a village somewhere – perhaps, west…? – of little Whinging, called Newtown, where Hermione lived with her parents. He though it was funny that someone who was as interested in Physics as he was, lived in a town named similarly to Newton

He had met Hermione when he was six years old, when he was first beginning to exercise and learn some self-defence to go against Dudley and his gang whenever they wanted – and forced him – to play 'Hunting Harry' in the park. She too was being abused in the park it seemed, there were a group of girls around her, hands on their hips and really revolting, bullying atmosphere around them, and he knew from the sound of their voice, that they were taunting her. So he did what he thought his parents would have liked him to do, and told the bullies of.

It had took some of his courage and he guessed that the girls didn't want to mess with someone who looked older than them, and was exercising. He could still remember the sweet sense of vengeance he felt for Hermione as he watched the girls run away. It was that day, when he 'saved' her that they became a pair. One that did everything together and were inseparable.

And everything was better with her.

It was almost scary how she could've made him feel better with a touch of her unbelievably soft hand and pink lips, it felt as though they shared one magical, combined — bonded — core, and she was sharing her energy – her magic with him, and there was where his flashbacks and pains lay forgotten — or rather, thrown into a pit of fire. And boy, he was so upset when she had to leave. And he didn't know why.

As he finally arrived at the beautiful and cosy two story blue house in the outskirts of Surrey, he sat by the unused, nearby bus stop before getting bored and then retiring to the tree closest to her house. He wasn't sure why Hermione hadn't told her parents about him, although he had seen Mrs. Granger peek out sometimes and wave cheerfully at him, he supposed Hermione must've told her about him only, because Mr. Granger never said anything to Harry when they would accidentally run into each other while jogging in the morning. He did however, sometimes thrown Harry a few dirty looks. He always wondered why.

Harry stopped thinking when a cat suddenly appeared from a nearby alley, it was a tabby, brown old cat with marks around her eyes that looked as though she had been wearing glasses, the cat looked at him it's eyes flickering up to his scar and then back to his face if acted really peculiar.

The door to the house opened with a slam to the wall — gaining Harry's attention — and out came a crying bushy haired girl clutching her two large books to her stomach as she ran to the pavement and then ran off and away. Harry tilted his head in confusion and shrunk his own books and placed them in his pocket before getting up and running off behind her. He could see Mrs. Granger in the corner of his eye looking as sorrowful as ever.

Hermione was far away from him, and he bet she was heading for the Surrey Park where she would always go when she was feeling sad or confused — other than to him of course — and she wasn't so much of a runner and Harry was easily catching up with her. Faster than he had anticipated, Hermione banked the turn and when he did, she was already in the park, sitting down on the blue swing, swinging slowly as she looked upsettingly to her shoes.

He sighed at the sight of his best friend and was jogging towards her when she suddenly turned to him and sprinted, tackling him into one of her well-known, bone-crushing hugs that he couldn't resist. He immediately hugged her back as they slowly walked towards their favourite tree. He could tell by her shaking body and painful – to his ears at least – whimpers and sobs that she was crying again, and he tightened his hold.

He set her down at the trunk of the tree and he settled down as well, waiting for her sobs to subside as she cried into his shoulder. Hermione had always been a strong girl, both mentally and emotionally, so to have her cry so openly and uncontrollably pulled at his most sensitive heart strings. He rubbed at her back, and made some soothing noises as he remembered his mother had done for him and eventually, she stopped crying and sniffed at the napkin he conjured for her.

A few sniffs later and he vanished the fabric with a flick of his hand and brought her into another hug, one she quickly recuperated. They hugged for a while before he could no longer hold in his curiosity and asked the most obvious question. "What's wrong?"

She sighed and lifted her head off his shoulder before pulling her knees up to her chest and looking towards the distance – he hated seeing her like this. "It was dad again," she said and he felt his anger rise. For some reason, Richard Granger loved to be a total jerk to his only child and Harry would always feel his anger rising whenever the man tried to belittle Hermione after she did the most wonderful things in the world, he was just so unbelievable sometimes and so arrogant.

"I told him about you," Hermione continued, clearly reluctant and she turned slightly towards him watching his reaction out of the corner of his eye and he felt his stomach drop. From the books he had read and the movies he had had the privilege of watching, the fathers of any daughters were always over protective and over dramatic whenever a boy is brought into the life of their daughter. He only hoped that Hermione's dad wasn't like that, but judging from Hermione's forlorn expression, he guessed Richard Granger was worse than he had previously thought – not that he expected more of the man.

"Mum was as understanding as ever," Hermione continued, "she even smiled when I talked about how great of a person you are. But dad – dad was – well, less understanding and he seemed to ignore everything but the fact that his daughter was hanging out with a boy. And then – and then," Harry could see she was about to cry again, and he pulled her once again, into another one of his hugs. "And then he demanded that I never see you again!" She wailed and he was taken aback by the anger she said it with. She was feisty, but it had gotten littler and littler as she grew up and she did lose some of her bossiness too, but here was ferocity that he had never seen from her before, it was almost like whenever he was angry – which, wasn't pretty sometimes.

"I yelled at him," Hermione grimaced, and Harry wondered how she could be so forgiving to man that treated her that way. She really was beautiful, inside and outside. "And we rowed a little, before I got super angry and just stormed out the house. I do hope he calms down before I go back home."

"You shouldn't have to worry if your father is not going to be angry when you arrive home!" Harry said angrily, but not to Hermione. "You shouldn't have to worry if your father's going to like your best friend or not! You shouldn't! You shouldn't! I obviously don't know a lot about father's Hermione, but I'm almost positive that a father isn't supposed to treat his daughter like that!" The magic was rolling off of him in angry waves and he knew that he had taken a little too far. He sighed and the hand squeezing his tightly did what it always did in a situation like this and gave some of its warm, comforting magic to him, and Harry felt himself calm down. Blimey, how did she do that? "Sorry." He mumbled, ashamed of himself for losing his temper yet again.

"Oh, Harry, there's nothing to apologise for," Hermione said. She sighed, "Sometimes I totally agree with you on that particular subject. I shouldn't have to worry about my dad, sometimes. But parents know best, you know what they say. However," she said when she saw her best friend look crestfallen, "I'm positive that Dad knows the worst when it comes to you!" She beamed when she saw Harry's expression immediately lift as a smile brought its way onto his face.

It was a few hours later that Harry relaxed into the truck of his and Hermione's favourite tree with a contented smile on his face – they had spent their time reading like they always did – with Hermione just five minutes ago falling asleep with her head on his shoulder – they're usual position whenever and wherever. He loved the feeling of her head on his shoulder, the way her hair tickled his cheek. Her breath smelled of the sandwiches he had made for them. (They had fed each other.)

He heard something, and he turned to face the direction of the entrance of the park as his magic, on instinct, placed a protective barrier around Hermione and himself. Then he saw what had made the noise. The tabby cat was back and was staring right at him with wide eyes, once again he noticed that those very same eyes were surrounded by what he presumed to be spectacle marks.

The cat spent some time looking at him – which was weird – before suddenly, it looked around and… changed into a human? An old woman with emerald robes and a pointy had and glasses that matched the markings around her eyes. He knew it!

"Hello, Mr. Potter." Said the woman. She sounded unlike her age, giddy really, which, from what he sensed from her magic, was different from her normal behaviour. From her eyes though, he could see that the woman was someone who you wouldn't want to be cross with you.

"Hi," he said warily, remembering both that Hermione was asleep on his shoulder and that the woman was a stranger. And kids shouldn't talk to children – as reluctant as he was to say he was still a kid. He was sure that he and Hermione were older than their years.

The woman smiled and her eyes flickered up to the scar on his forehead before she shook her head and looked back into his eyes, seemingly pensive. "Hello, Mr. Potter," she repeated, "My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall and I am here to enrol that young lady on your shoulder to a very special school – a school, I assure you, that you will be attending as well."

"Is it a school for magic, Professor?" Asked a suddenly awake Hermione. When Professor McGonagall – as the woman had introduced herself – said she was here to enrol Hermione, Harry had woken her up with his magic.

The professor was taken aback not only by the bluntness of her question, but by the fact that the seemingly sleeping girl was suddenly awake and had heard what she said. She shook her head, Minerva McGonagall had a reputation to keep. "Well, yes, young lady, the school I am here to enrol you with is a school for magic. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry where I am the professor of a subject called Transfiguration – a subject that teaches you to how to change an object into another. One of the many subjects that are provided at Hogwarts."

Hermione squealed and the Professor smiled the tiniest bit. "Now, Miss Granger, if you will lead me to your parents, I need to speak to them about your enrolment at Hogwarts." Hermione suddenly deflated and Harry mentally cringed.

She took a deep breath and sighed, "Okay," she said in a small voice. He then turned to Harry and hugged him, "I'll see you later, Harry."

But Harry had noticed something, and couldn't help but bring it up. "You're here for Hermione, Professor, but yet you knew my name. How?"

Professor McGonagall gulped. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.  
...

Minerva McGonagall apparated to an alley somewhere in the middle of a little town called Newton in Surrey, England. It was another summer before another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and that meant that there was another list of Muggleborns that she needed to introduce to the magical world.

She had already spoken to some of the families of some of the Muggleborns namely the Davis', but now she was in Newton looking for a family by the name of Granger ready to speak to them about the powers that their daughter, Hermione Granger, possessed. From what she heard of the girl, which was required of her, Hermione Granger was a smart eleven year old girl whose passion was reading and learning, which intrigued Minerva to the fullest.

Young students who were interested in learning always attracted her attention and she was really looking forward to see Miss Granger progress through her seven years at Hogwarts – that is, if her parents agreed. Which was likely, because if their magic wasn't controlled and taught then it could be disastrous.

She transformed into her Animagus form, a tabby brown cat and slowly she walked out of the alley, careful of her most frequent assaulters, the muggle contraptions called cars, motorcycles and bicycles. She shuddered just at the thought of them. She didn't despise Muggles like Pureblood bigots like Lucius Malfoy and Theo Nott did, but she didn't understand why they liked to make these dangerous, dangerous machines.

If a cat could sigh, she would, but she couldn't. Her abilities as a cat were obviously limited, but the ones that she had were enhanced. She couldn't remember the last time she jumped, no less, the time she had jumped over a wall.

The house was in the description on the muggle clipboard that she had bought, there were somethings that the Muggles knew to create that were incredibly helpful and useful. It was a nice two story blue house and even if they were many, she could track Magical Signature. She figured that Miss Granger was the only magical in the neighbourhood. Only once before had another person – magical person – recognise her when she was out doing this very same person.

She checked the road thrice, they weren't a lot of cars around this place of Surrey, she noted with some relief, but it didn't hurt for her to be careful, did it? Quickly, she crossed the road in her wonderful Animagus form and soon, she was following the instructions she read earlier to the house of one Hermione Granger.

She arrived soon – being a cat had its perks. But she stopped. There was a tree in front of the house, and there was someone there with a book in his hands. She looked more closely and honestly, even with her enhanced eyesight, she couldn't believe her eyes! Those messy locks of black hair, the green eyes, two features of easily her two favourite students before and after they graduated, features their son had possessed after his birth in 1980. Harry Potter was standing right in front of her.

The last time she had even seen the boy was back in November 1981, when they had left him at the doorstep of his relatives' house, so she really couldn't help but think that they boy had grown up. He was more grown up than she thought – or expected – though. It seemed as though he had his father's height and facial features but his father had never been as fit and muscular as the boy was now. It was simply unbelievable!

From what she had gathered from the Dursleys from her time sitting on the front of their yard, she thought that they would despise the young man, keep him from food, and possibly even starve him! But the boy looked as healthy as ever and she took pleasure in seeing that he had a book in his hands, like Lily Potter always had.

Without a second thought, she looked up to see the scar that was peeking out from under one unruly lock of raven black hair – she just couldn't help it! Days from now, everyone who would go near him would want to look at that very same feature of his. He might as well get used to it now – even if it was a cat that was doing it.

Their attention both shifted as she heard a door creak open and slam back in. Minerva tilted her furry head to the side as she watch who she presumed to be Miss Granger, rush out from her home in tears, with her books pressed against her chest. What had happened to the poor child? Minerva did not know. But what she did know was who was going to find out.

In a flash, the child of Lily and James Potter had come out from his spot on the tree and was racing after the girl with the bushy hair, just like she had once seen James had done with Lily – but unlike James, who was running after Lily to ask her to Hogsmeade, this boy was running after a girl to comfort her. She could see that Harry Potter was in some ways more like his mother, but still his father's son. If she had any say in the matter, she would say that he was a perfect mixture of both of his parents.

She followed them. Wanting to bring Miss Granger home first before she spoke to her parents – she only wanted to explain what needed to be explained once. Though, she might tell Miss Granger that she was here to enrol her into a 'special' school.

They went into what she noted to be the park around these areas, The Surrey Park. And soon, they were hugging under a tree, and Minerva felt her heart warm at the sight. She waited by the entrance of the park as Harry comforted the young witch and as Hermione told Harry about why she was crying – or she assumed that much.

Then, the wind blew hard and sudden and Minerva felt herself being blown back by the sheer power behind the wind. She was blown back a few feet when the wind suddenly stopped and Minerva felt… happy for some reason. There was just this sudden happiness filled aura that came over her surroundings that made Minerva feel happy. Genuinely happy. Her breathing evened out and she shook her head, she should be acting more like a cat, but she couldn't help it. She just felt so happy.

She didn't know how long she had spent just sitting there being happy, but eventually, she remembered the reason she was here, and ran back to the entrance and peered in. It seemed that Miss Granger had fallen asleep on Mr. Potter's shoulder and he had just placed his book down.

She looked around, making sure no one was looking at her and when she noticed she was alone she meowed and walked forward. She was only a few steps away from the couple, when she noticed that Mr. Potter was looking at her. Just like the sudden gush of wing a few minutes – hours? – ago, Minerva felt something different in her surroundings, but this time she was able to recognise the power to be… magic.

She could tell, by the aura the magic gave off, that the magic's intent was to protect. But… could be possible? She knew that the Potters were one of the most powerful families to ever lift a wand, but Merlin the power and magic and the power of the magic that rolled off Harry Potter was magical – no pun intended, Seeing no other choice, she looked at her surroundings and transformed back to her human form. Surprised that he didn't seem surprised, Minerva introduced herself.

"Is it a school for magic, Professor?" Minerva was shocked to see that Miss Granger was awake and heard her introduction. But she was even more amazed when she understood that the Muggleborn witch already knew about magic.

She confirmed and informed the Muggleborn that she needed to speak to her parents. But then, Mr. Potter asked a very difficult question, one that she didn't expect she would have to answer. "You're here for Hermione, Professor, but yet you knew my name. How?"

It was a very reluctant Minerva that conjured two books. One on the Downfall of the Most Darkest Wizards and another called: Hogwarts, A History. After the young witch promised to be back, they left for the Granger Household. But Minerva knew she had to do something when she returned to Hogwarts. She needed to speak with Albus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, and I apologise for any grammar errors.


	3. Chapter III

Chapter III

"Remember Harry, just get to the Dursleys, tell them what's happening tomorrow and explain to them that you need them to drop you off at Diagon Alley so you can buy your school equipment, and then collect you back at an allocated place and time. Your shopping may take maybe an hour or so, so please plan accordingly." He had heard all before, in fact, he heard five times previous to this current time. He understood that his best friend was worried for him, but Merlin, she could be really worried about him and sometimes – as loathed as he was to admit – she was the teensiest tiniest bit annoying – not that he didn't appreciate her concern or anything like that.

He figured that she hid her bossiness well under her skin because of the bullying she received because of it, and he was livid when he worked out that was actually the reason. Her bossiness was something that defined her, but the bullying had scarred her and she hid her bossiness well, he felt very privileged though, that she felt safe with him and was open towards him, and when her bossiness returned for a brief moment, she wouldn't wince or downcast her eyes, she would just glance shyly at him and flutter her eyelashes. It was quite cute sometimes if he was being quite honest – not that he would tell anyone – not that he had anyone to tell really.

Her eagerness for him to experience what she herself experienced two days prior made him smile though and he could feel his anticipation for tomorrow burning heavily inside of him, he couldn't wait.

As he had said, Hermione went to the Wizarding World's shopping alley, called Diagon Alley with her parents and Professor McGonagall the other day, and bought all of her necessary school equipment and even more. Her parents had accepted the explanation of Hermione being a magical witch better than he had expected, he thought after Hermione began her full recount of what happened between her parents, her and Professor McGonagall.

Her father was reluctant but seemed grateful to have a reason why she had 'accidental bouts of magic when experiencing strong emotions' as the Transfiguration professor had explained. He had waited on the tree that afternoon reading the book Professor McGonagall had given them while waiting for the professor to leave the house so he could speak to her before he waited for dusk to climb the tree and speak to Hermione through her bedroom window.

The reason behind it was because he wanted to ask the Professor to send his Hogwarts letter earlier than it was supposed to arrive, which was somewhere around his birthday according to the very interesting book called Hogwarts: A History. The professor seemed obviously conflicted between doing her job properly or complying with the puppy eye act he was performing, but eventually, she complied and said that the letter would be sent tomorrow and a Hogwarts Professor – maybe even her – would arrive after a reply to the Hogwarts letter was sent, saying that he was attending and then proceed to take him and his family to Diagon Alley for his school supplies.

But as the Professor of the oddly fascinating art of Transfiguration, he briefly read about in Hogwarts: A History was leaving, he sent a silent and unnoticed charm towards her with the intent being that she would forget about sending a professor or herself, and would send just the Hogwarts letter. He felt a little sorry and guilty having done that to a woman who would be teaching him in a few weeks or months, but it had to be done, he had to go to Diagon Alley by himself and no one was stopping him! Not even Hermione knew about his plan to go alone. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, it was because he was being a little paranoid after reading a little bit about Occlumency and Legilimency.

He hoped tomorrow when he went to Diagon, he could buy a book on Occlumency and Legilimency and study the art with his best friend with both of them training themselves how to perform it. Which was one point why he wasn't going to go with a professor. Which professor would allow him, a 'mere first year' to purchase a book that looked like it was for adults?

He sighed internally, he was older than his age suggested and was even more mature than a fair few selected adult individuals.

Which brought on another issue, Richard Granger. He and Hermione were reading the books she bought yesterday – both academic and extracurricular – when he tentatively asked how her relationship with her father was. She was silent for a moment and he thought he'd gone too far and was about to retract the question and apologize, hoping she wasn't too mad at him, but she spoke.

"We're… a bit strained, shall I say," Hermione said with a wince as she leaned into him. He wondered how she could do that with the person who was making that same relationship strained. She jumped on him, not literally, thankfully, when she somehow heard the stray thought and verbally beat into him as she told him how it wasn't his fault, in the end, he admitted defeat. She had huffed, but continued nevertheless, "Yes, strained. We speak to each other, but you can see that it's awkward, and I'm afraid that we've grown distant because of topics he wishes not to broach properly, I don't mean to sound rude or anything by that though. I love him, I'll always love my father."

She sighed, "Mum's been overreacting about it a little bit. She senses the tension and tries to diffuse it with overly cheesy jokes that Dad usually tells, and she's overly enthusiastic whenever she suggests family games or something that brings the family together. It's not working out, and Dad's been a little more aggressive and gruff, he acts… strange. Dad's never been the one to be arrogant, and I don't mean to be rude, but he's acting that way in my perspective." She turned to him suddenly with a small smile.

"And like you always say, it's about perspective. So I tried my best to put myself into his shoes, and quite honestly, I understand his fear, and a little bit, his overprotectiveness, but what I don't understand is the reason he's being angry more and more every day. I wake up some nights whenever I need to use the loo or have a drink of water, and I see Dad sleeping on the couch, a scowl on his face. I knew I heard them arguing that night, but I chose to ignore it. When Dad started sleeping on the couch more frequently, I knew I could no longer ignore the fact that something was happening in the family, and that we were all drifting apart."

She was quiet for a long time and Harry sympathetically rubbed her back thinking that if his parents were alive, would the same thing happened with them? They were so many alternatives to consider other than the one he constantly dreamed of, the one where his parents and he were the happiest family in the world. His parents could have had another child. His mother could have died giving birth to that child! Uncle Padfoot could have been in an accident that affected Dad so much that he developed a smoking habit, or worse, a drinking habit! He inwardly shuddered, his hands something momentarily from their back rubbing before continuing.

Hermione soon spoke again and this time he could finally see a smile on her face, "Mum and mine's relationship is fine though, if not, developing, and she's been so supportive and so there for me. She teases me all the time about the fact that I fanc –" She had stopped abruptly and blushed bright red, Harry wondered why, but didn't question her.

Now there were in front of her lovely house as they said their goodbyes to one another, it was common for him to walk her home and make sure she was fine before he himself made his way back to the Dursley's residence – a place he would never call home, the only exception being him under a curse or spell.

"I know, Hermione," he said and he resisted rolling his eyes because that was so childish, and childish didn't define him, if it had to be associated with him though, he would have listed it as an antonym, "I don't have amnesia, quite the opposite when you think about it, really."

He watched as she blushed and ducked her head slightly, looking at the tip of her sparkling shoes, "I'm sorry, Harry, but you know how I am, I can't help but worry about your treatment when you're with those awful relatives of yours."

He smiled and bent to give her knuckles a soft kiss, loving the way she looked wild-eyed and innocent to him and her cheeks reddened unbelievably before she quickly hugged him, muttered a quick goodbye, and dashed into the house, he could see her dazed smile though and knew those knight stories came in handy.

With an unnoticeable skip in his step, he walked to the place he would never call his home, but merely his place of residence and knocked at the front door, he noticed that the gardens needed trimming and sighed when he already figured out he was going to have to do that some time or the other.

"Coming," Aunt Petunia's voice sang through the house, he could swear he heard the glass of the window rattle and saw it shake, there was though, a hint of annoyance in her voice, oblivious to anyone else had they been at this door, and he figured that she must have been cooking.

The door opened quickly, but gently, with ease that Harry had seen his aunt practice with the back door on numerous occasions whenever guests were expected to come. That was the only humour he had back as a little child in the cupboard under the stairs and basically his entire young childhood entertainment.

She had a radiant smile on her face, but he could see it was fake by the crinkling of her forehead and the furrow of her brows, and she looked down at him, her smile instantly turning into a sneer.

"Oh, it's just you," she said rather haughtily, "Well, get in, what are you waiting for? A bloody invitation?"

He pretended to ignore her for his own humor and for her agitation and walked into the house when his usual analyzing that he did during any and all conversations – usually with a sight exception when he was with Hermione and could loosen up – made him make up a plan to inform his aunt of his Hogwarts Letter's arrival.

He turned rather pompously to the wife of his uncle, and smiled, "Speaking of invitations," he said, "tomorrow, an owl will be bringing my Hogwarts letter and I expect it to be left alone or brought straight to me. I will find it... unacceptable if something were to happen to it, whether or not at your hands, and will set the consequences accordingly. I do hope I am understood? Goodbye, I'll see you at dinner time, or you can serve me in my bedroom if you prefer."

Before his aunt could rip him a new one, he took off up the stairs and into his room. But his aunt had already gotten the message, don't do anything to the letter, or you'll face my wrath. He hoped Uncle Vernon was in a good mood when he came home, just so he could ruin it.

The night went just how he had expected it to, after an unusually quiet dinner and receiving (and ignoring) vicious glares from everyone with the Dursley last name in the house, he washed his wears with ease and left to his room, where he had no other choice, than to meditate, for finding sleep was something he was having difficulty with. It wasn't like those other days when he was losing sleep because of the nightmares, no, this time was different, and he was losing sleep because of the excitement that was running through his veins.

Tomorrow, things would happen and finally, he would start to progress further into life. Finally, he would get to relish the enjoyable feeling that in a month on average, he would no longer be sleeping in the smallest bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive. He would have his own dormitory, even though he had to share it with other boys, he wouldn't have to wake up in the morning and cook food for those bloody whales, he wouldn't have to endure the torture they put on him. And what was more endearing than anything else, was the fact that he was going to spend each and every hour he could with Hermione – except for bedtime of course. The knowledge he would acquire from what Hogwarts: A History deemed as the largest magical library in Europe was another lovely advantage as well!

The morning came faster than he had anticipated though, he thought he would have fallen asleep on his place on the ground where he was meditating. Looking in his mirror, he smiled as he noticed that he didn't have any hint of bags under his eyes because he missed sleep. His magic probably took care of that.

To be quite honest, losing sleep while meditating as a substitute did nothing much to subdue his energy, in fact, he felt quite light and happier than usual. He wasn't usually happy on days when he couldn't be with Hermione for most of the day, so this was different. He planned on meeting her this afternoon and telling her about his trip at Diagon Alley like she had done with him, but who knows what might happen.

He prepared breakfast for those oats again and they came down at their time, with Aunt Petunia a little earlier as usual. When they were all seated at the breakfast table, the mail flap on the door made a sound that seemed to echo throughout the entire house. He smirked as he got up and excused himself from the table, enjoying Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's red face as their Adam apple's bobbled as they gulped. Merlin, he would enjoy this.

As expected, the letter from Hogwarts was right there, he recognized it from the one Hermione showed him. It was buried under Dudley's birthday letter from the local bank, a postcard, and some bills. He grinned, walking back to the kitchen and dropping the other mail off to his now purple uncle before he chose to forgo his breakfast and ran up to his room.

He ripped the seal open with delicacy and unfolded the letter as anticipation trembled within him. He recognized that the same handwriting that was on Hermione's letter was on his, Professor McGonagall's handwriting.

Dear Mr. Potter,

As you have requested, I sent your letter a little earlier than the appointed time. Your school equipment and other necessities are listed on the parchment below, under the normal protocol letter that states you have been chosen to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft Wizardry.

Hoping you are well,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration Professor,

Minerva McGonagall.

He grinned, tearing into the other letters. There was the protocol one that Professor McGonagall wrote about, requesting for a reply from an owl that was apparently awaiting it, and there was one with his school list. He read it all once more, just to relive the feeling before he took a sheet of paper – because he had no parchment to reply with – and wrote a reply before opening his window, and true enough, there was an owl waiting for him.

The brown barn owl stuck out his left leg and Harry got the idea and placed the letter between the owl's claws. The owl hooted and soon it was just a spec in the sky as it flew away.

He grinned, today was indeed going to be a great day.

He apparated – not teleported, he had to remind himself – to the middle of London in a deserted alleyway, where he made his way to the abandoned building that had always felt strange whenever he had encountered it. At first, he just thought it was his magic adapting to the exercises he was putting on them, but now, when he had a more powerful magical core, and a greater notice of magical presence, he realized he was actually feeling the enchantments around the pub, it was either that or the magical inhabitants inside.

He walked to the door and as he was about to rap politely, it swung open on its own, and instantly, he was hit with the smell of rum, beer, and cigarettes, with the distant smell of tea somewhere closer to the counter.

The barkeeper was the first to see him, he had a bald head and a few missing or crooked teeth as she shot an easy grin, but when his eyes darted up to his head, his eyes widened dramatically and he choked on the mead he was drinking.

The customer beside him rubbed the man's back a little, turning to see where the man was looking to cause such a reaction and he gasped aloud, the entire pub silencing at the sound.

"Harry Potter," he murmured softly and with disbelief, but Harry heard him quite clearly from across the room, "Harry Potter," he murmured once more as if understanding what he was seeing and saying, "It's Harry Potter," The man suddenly roared and rushed to him, the entire pub following example.

He held up his hand in defensive, "Stop!" He yelled.

And they stopped.

He lowered his hand and calmed his breathing that had suddenly spiked when what seemed like hundreds of people suddenly rushed towards him, they could've smothered him! He saw all their excited faces and greedy smiles drop slowly and changed into either confused frowns or scowls.

"Is this the way you speak and act around children in the Wizarding World?" He asked them and didn't expect an answer, so continued, "A ten-year-old boy you all rush up to and act even younger and more naïve than someone my age. If I was different, I could have been spooked out of the Wizarding World, thinking this was an example of what every witch and wizard was, or worse, if I was weaker-minded, I could have been traumatized, it's not as exaggerated as it sounds, because it is possible." He turned to the barman, "I need to get into Diagon Alley if you please. As I understand it, it is something that comes with the job."

The barman's open mouth snapped open and he nodded, "Yes, Mr. Potter," he said before he turned to the crowd, "Please make way." They did and soon there was a pathway between them that went straight to the back entrance (or was it the exit?) of the building.

He walked through and honestly, he didn't care if they thought him arrogant after that display, he was genuinely jumped out of his wits, and was sure that if one of them had touched him, he would have snapped on him. Hopefully, the word would spread, and they would leave him alone. He knew he was famous, but he didn't know he was this famous.

The barman, Tom, the man had mentioned nervously, tapped some selected bricks in the walls, and bowed politely (which he did the same to), and left with haste. Harry turned back to the wall just in time to see it disappear and reveal a street Harry had been dreaming about.

The street was rather narrow and filled with wizards and witches of all ages, and was bordered with buildings all sizes and, believe it or not, shapes! Owls flapped, friends chattered, shoes clicked, robes swished, everyone was doing their own thing and interacting easily with their companions. He walked slowly, absently pulling at his fringe to cover his scar that had basically made the incident happen back at the pub, as looked at everything and anything he could get a glimpse of.

Shops were decorated in different colours and advertised many different things. He could see wands in windows, trunks, owls, cats, toads, robes, toys, brooms, everything, and he was amazed by it all. Fascinated by it even.

But he remembered why he was here and knew the first place he had to go to, was the Wizarding bank, otherwise known as Gringotts Bank.

The upcoming part was taken out of the Wattpad version

The goblins looked just as Hogwarts: A History had suggested they would look. With their sharp teeth and even sharper fingernails. Their eyes were usually narrowed and saw through their slitted eyelids. Some wore formal clothing like muggle suits and Wizarding robes while others dressed in armour like the guards. The guards, of course, looked very serious and dangerous with their sharp weapons like axes and swords and Harry personally liked that, since this was bank and security should be essential to guard people's money and give them their privacy.

Even though he couldn't see them, Harry could sense what he learned was called Runes emitting privacy and security-based magic and it made him smile faintly. The goblins were very clear when they wanted privacy for their clients.

When he entered what looked like the lobby of the building, he walked past all of the busy tellers who were hastily writing on parchments with their blood-red quills or grumpily dealing with the not-so-professional clients that wouldn't require a private room to discuss their matters. Harry did notice, however, that when the goblins and their personal clients talked, he couldn't hear what they were saying. Obviously, silencing charms. Tough security. He liked it.

On both sides of him, he could feel the goblins' eyes looking questioningly at him but his years of meditation helped him to not show how nervous and intimidated he really was feeling, on the inside. Finally, he arrived at the goblin teller at the end of the lobby and this goblin, unfortunately, looked grumpy as well. Come to think of it, they all looked grumpy and highly impatient.

"Welcome to Gringotts Bank, state your name and business immediately!" Barked the teller. Harry was intimidated but didn't show it and he returned the goblin's hard glare.

"My name is Harry Potter and I am here to either see if I have been left money by my parents or to start an account of my own," Harry replied calmly and in a whispered tone that he made sure the goblin heard.

The goblin looked taken aback and he composed himself quickly before grunting disdainfully and trotting off to the door behind him, he returned seconds later with another goblin in tow. This goblin didn't look as grumpy and disdainful as his ally who Harry just spoke with, but he was grumpy nevertheless, Harry decided to do what he thought was best before he started off with this goblin the way he started off with the teller. He bowed, "Hello, my name is Harry Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you."

Both goblins looked taken aback but the way they reclaimed their professionalism, Harry had to silently commend them. The goblin that recently appeared bowed back, "A pleasure it is to finally meet your acquaintance as well since that most unfortunate day your parents had to go into hiding, Scion Potter. My name is Barlock and I am the Accounts Manager in charge of the Potter vaults, appointed by James Fleamont Potter himself." He introduced himself, proudly "I have much to discuss with you, now if you follow me, please."

Harry nodded to the goblin by the name of Ragnok and bowed to the astonished teller before following the almost trotting Accounts Manager through a few halls and into a room that was marked with his name and profession, it was his office. They sat on opposite sides of the oak desk. The Account Manager wasted no time at all and his hand was in his plush drawer seeking out something.

The next thing Harry knew there was a blank piece of parchment in front of him and a blood-red quill like the other tellers had been using, although, this one had a different design from the others and looked less frilly. Harry took a look a look at the Goblin and quirked an eyebrow, hopefully, the Goblin would understand what he was asking. He did. Barlock smiled a fang-filled smile, "As the Potters' Personal Accounts Manager, I had to visit them regularly and when they found out that the Dark Wizard, Voldemort, was coming after them, they gave me a specific task to complete if they died and when you first step into this building after - or a little bit before in this case - your eleventh birthday.

"Your father wanted you to take an inheritance test. He was adamant about it, but your mother was worried. Being the smart lass that she was, she knew that the Potters were one of the oldest Purebloods in the Wizarding World and knew that their heir – that's you – could be overwhelmed by the vast families that have could be placed in your name. Of course, you don't inherit these vaults or family names until you become of age, but she was still worried. Nevertheless, she agreed with your father. Now, if you just sign your full name there, we'll be able to see what inheritance you have under your name." Ragnok explained and pointed to the parchment with his long fingernail.

Harry nodded to the Goblin and took the quill in his hand before writing his name on the parchment. His name rewrote itself before words started to appear beneath it. Magic was truly awesome.

Name: Harry James Potter

Father: James Fleamont Potter

Mother: Lily Viola Potter (née Evans)

Inheritance by blood:

• The Potters:

\- Properties

\- Trust Vault (Number 689)

\- Potter Vault #1 (Number 602)

\- Potter Vault #2 (Number 347)

• The Prevells:

\- Properties

\- Trust Vault (Number 435)

\- Prevell Vault (Number 423)

• Clan McCalluses:

\- Properties

\- McCalluses Vault (Number 634)

• The Gryffindors

\- Properties (save Hogwarts)

\- Gryffindors Vault #1 (Number 4)

\- Gryffindors Vault #2 (Number 10)

\- Gryffindors Vault #3 (Number 12)

Inheritance by Conquest:

• The Slytherins

(Harry Potter's defeat of the Slytherin Heir, Tom Marvolo Riddle on the 31st of October, 1981.):

\- Properties (save Hogwarts)

\- Slytherins Vault #1 (Number 5)

\- Slytherins Vault #2 (Number 6)

• The Hufflepuffs

(On the 5th of January, 1960, The Heir of Slytherin, Tom Marvolo Riddle won ownership of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Hufflepuff after defeating the Heir of Hufflepuff, Lazarus Carcess Smith. And on the 31st of October, 1981, Harry James Potter defeated Tom Marvolo Riddle and therefore claims the title of House Hufflepuff.):

\- Properties

\- Vault Number #1 (Number 14)

\- Vault Number #2 (Number 17)

• The Emyrs

(The Heir of Emyrs, Merlin Emyrs, was defeated by Marrisa Vulclair, later on, known as Marrisa Potter after marriage to Thomias Potter. As Harry James Potter is the Heir, he will claim the House of Emrys and all their ownerships upon emancipation.)

\- Properties

\- Vault #1 (Number 1)

\- Vault #2 (Number 2)

It was an amazed and truly shocked Harry Potter who had to tear his eyes away from the parchment in his hands to look at the surprising goblin at the other side of the oak desk. Barlock had been the Accounts Manager of the Potter vaults but he had never known that they had more than one family tied to their name — very wealthy and influential Pureblood families, no less.

"These are all mine, Barlock?" Asked the future owner of all those vaults. The goblin merely nodded.

"The vaults will indeed be yours, that is, when you reach the age of seventeen and considered an adult wizard in the Wizarding World — mainly Wizarding Britain — until then, you can only access the trust vaults. I personally request that you take money from the vaults of Clan McCallus — an ancient and distant, long-forgotten Pureblood clan that was tied to the heir of their family who was undoubtedly a squib related to your mother. As per your father's last request, I will be performing a balance check for all the vaults and would be informing you as soon as possible. Your parent's will, will be read once you are of age."

It wasn't long before Harry accepted the Accounts Manager's suggestions and was leaving the wizard's bank feeling dizzy and dazzled.

He shook his head, and absently placed his hand over his pocket, where there was an Extension Charm and the money he took out from the vault to pay for his school equipment. Merlin, he couldn't wait to tell Hermione about his day, and it wasn't even finished yet.


	4. Chapter IV

Chapter IV

The trunk was quiet. Which was a weird statement by itself since trunks never made a noise unless they were moved or dropped, but then again, it was hard to remember that this piece of magic he was now in was a trunk and not a real building. He was lucky to find it before anyone else did, because from what he heard from the shop owner, this trunk was one of a kind, and many didn't buy it because they simply didn't have the money. But he did, and he walked out the same store with said trunk in his hands. It was amazing what he could do with it. The owner explained everything to him after he seemed to notice his scar, he said he could do magic in there with his wand and not notify the Ministry of Magic, he could use dark spells in there, and he could spend years in there because the food was always in the pantry and there were many more features that he was yet to explore.

The trunk was the second to last thing he had bought and he had immediately placed his school books and equipment in before he went and bought a snowy white owl he named Hedwig, a name he got out of the History of Magic textbook by Batildha Bagshot. He had already gotten his wand and that was a different story to tell. It was apparent that once he entered the shop called Ollivanders that none of these wands could be his, they just didn't feel right to him, they weren't compatible with his magic, so he told the wandsmith, who was a mixture of shocked and excited.

Harry was shown into the wandsmith's workspace and with some of his hair, some of his blood, and his choice core and wand shell that suited his magic, he had a new wand, a golden one no less, with silver stripes twirling around as you'd see on a drill. Ollivander even said that he was sure that it was one of the most powerful wands he had ever made before – if not the most powerful wand ever made before. Ollivander confessed he wasn't sure if it was the most powerful wand created and Harry knew why he said that because he had read the Tale of the Three Brothers. A story he had read during his lunch break, where he ate a simple pizza he had to sneak out of Diagon Alley to get – he figured he could lay off all vegetables just for today, but he wouldn't do it again, he assured himself.

But now he was home, after a wonderful afternoon spent with Hermione telling her about his day at Diagon Alley. She was super excited about the wand he had gotten and the books he got for her, she had even kissed him on his cheek, he had never blushed before then. He blushed even now as he did a few exercises in his trunk, what was that girl doing to him?

Ever since they were young they were connected by something he deemed far beyond magic, but yet by magic, and it was unusual but totally not unwelcomed. They could feel each other's magic and emotions and they could send their own magic to the other by a link – a bond, he could say – that he couldn't quite explain, it was simply just – magical! He felt so connected to her in many ways that he couldn't explain it because he couldn't understand it. But he loved it nevertheless.

He couldn't visit Hermione today because she was visiting her grandmother at the moment, since she'd be at Hogwarts all year round except for Christmas and they'd probably never get a chance to meet again for a while. He had never met Hermione's grandmother, Bertha Williams, before but from what he heard from Hermione about her, she was one of the best Grandmothers in the world and Hermione loved her. Hermione confessed though, that her parents were still contemplating if they should inform her grandmother that her granddaughter was a witch. Harry personally wanted them to tell her, be he didn't let her know his opinion, not wanting to influence or worse – change – Hermione's own opinion. He didn't want Hermione and her grandmother to drift apart the same way Hermione was drifting apart with her father.

But Hermione leaving for two days gave him an opportunity to do something a bit dangerous and not get chastised by her for doing it, so he changed into a fine set of robes he had purchased at Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions and placed a disillusionment charm on himself before he exited the trunk apartment and went into his bedroom, where he apparated to the front yard, went to an alleyway and canceled his charm before he stuck his wand out and summoned the bus Magical Transportation deemed as the Knight Bus.

He took the bus to the Leaky Cauldron and inwardly smirked as everyone eyed him warily, obviously, the word had spread about what he had done the other day and they were afraid to approach him, just how he liked it. Being liked was great and all, but being feared was priceless.

Tom was a nervous wreck as he showed him to the floo fireplaces and was about to explain how to use it when Harry merely raised an eyebrow and the man suddenly disappeared back to the counter, Harry had to stifle a laugh, priceless indeed.

He flooed to the Ministry of Magic and instantly was in a crowd of people and goblins. He ignored the curious looks he received and went into the lifts.

"Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, Office of the Head Auror and Wizengamot Administration Services." Stated the lift and Harry took a deep breath before he exited the lift and went straight for the door that had the name he was looking for. Amelia Bones. Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was the head of the department of magical law enforcement and she was going to help him with his plan.

He rapped on the door and soon it opened to her assistant who was in awe of his scar he tried to cover with his fringe this morning but must have gotten messed up once again because of the floo. He held back his scowl at the woman who silently showed him to the waiting area before his name was called loud and attracted the gasps of everyone who was in the room, Merlin, he hated this fame thing.

The room she was in was expected for a high profession. High towering bookshelves surrounding the room, decorative vases and lamps, and her desk was a large dark oak with a glass background that showed off Muggle London. The woman in question was scribbling away at her table that was filled with stacks and stacks of paper and parchment and books. She looked up at him as he walked in and her eyebrows rose slightly at the sight of his scar, he figured though, it was because she didn't expect a child – Harry Potter, no less – to ask for a meeting with the Head of the DMLE.

"Mr. Potter," she said as she got up, her Ministry robes flowing as she walked forward to greet him as he returned her greeting with one of his own. A minute later they were seated and he was asked why he was here.

"I'm here, Madam Bones, on a serious matter," he said. He had to show his maturity because he wanted her to take him seriously, as others would have scoffed at him because he was merely a child. The maturity he showed by his statement though, in terms of the word 'serious' was thin. "I have an ability called eidetic memory, it allows me to remember everything I've read and such, and I'm here as I understand something that goes deeply against something I remember and have researched."

"Go on," Madam Bones urged.

"Tell me, Madam Bones, what do you know about Sirius Black's trial?"

...

Hermione Granger was at home, well, this wasn't her home, in fact, she was probably 100 miles away from her real home, but this still felt like a home to her, and seeing the person who was in the home once again had been easily one of the best things she had done all week. Her grandmother was simply the best in the whole world and every minute she spent with her, Hermione considered a blessing. She was so funny, teasing, and caring all at the same time and Hermione couldn't help but squeeze the living daylights out of her every time she saw her. Like a few minutes ago, when her father pulled up to the old ranch house that Hermione loved to be in.

It had been her grandfather's great uncle's and he inherited it – even though it wasn't really an inheritance, at least, they didn't consider it that, just a gift from a fallen man to his favourite great-nephew – and she always loved the scenery surrounding the place. Every morning she had been here before she would always wake up and just bask in all its glory, it was surreal and she loved it.

Her grandfather had passed away and it was left to her grandmother to take care of the building and the lands, she was so old, Hermione's mum was too busy and Hermione's aunt was in America, that she had to sell part of the land and all of their animals because she could no longer care for them. Hermione could have seen the pain in her grandmother's eyes six years ago even though she was only five at the thought of selling away something that was deeply connected to her husband, but she knew her grandma knew she had to. Hermione also thought that the lovely lady she called her granny felt a little useless at her age and thought that her selling part of the land and animals was her fault because she couldn't look after it.

Hermione smiled sadly as she looked out the window once more to the beautiful piece of land she had always adored. It was late afternoon and the sun looked absolutely breathtaking as it headed downwards behind the forest of trees in the distance. She was in her own personal bedroom at the large house and even though she was feeling at home, she was feeling a bit homesick. For while she felt at home with her family, she still felt at home when she was in Harry's arms.

She swooned to herself as she continued to gaze into the horizon, Merlin knows how in love she was with him. And because he was the densest person in the world, she could wait, she was waiting since she was six years old when he had just become her knight in shining armour like a character right out of her favourite fairy tale, so she could wait a bit longer. In fact, after a discussion with her mother, she truly knew that boys were truly stupid when it came to emotions as her mother had spoken from experience. Harry was just as dense, and as usual, he tended to look at things from a logical point of view and not an emotional one, she figured it was probably because of his time with the Dursleys.

Her smile turned into a scowl as she moved from the window and plumped down onto her bed, the Dursleys were the worse, and Harry deserved so much more. Right now as she was swooning over him, he could be back in the cupboard under the stairs because the Dursleys had terrorized him or something, she shuddered at the thought.

A thought suddenly struck her and she gasped, that could work, it totally could work.

She closed her eyes like she had seen Harry done every time he had meditated and reached her magic out, her intention to search for Harry's when she was met with another feel of magic that wasn't Harry's, in fact, it felt so different yet at the same time, it felt so familiar.

With her eyes still closed she got up with her magic guiding her and went towards the magical aura that was in her room, well, if she remembered properly, it was her great grand aunt's room when she was younger, and soon her hand touched the wooden frame of her wall and without warning, she stepped through, but didn't appear on the other side.

...

Something was different when he apparated home and into his bedroom, the only reason he hadn't apparated to the Ministry and instead opted for the magical bus and floo powder this morning was because he didn't know where the Ministry was to apparate to it, but he knew where his room was and had apparated right there with a feeling in his chest that was different to him. It felt like… he was missing part of him, because, essentially, he was.

Hermione wasn't with him and he felt as though the brightest, warmest part of him had been ripped out and served to a three-headed dog or something horrendous like that. Without Hermione, he felt so hollow and so unmotivated that he didn't find it within himself to celebrate the fact that Madam Bones was going to do something about the fact Sirius Black was thrown into Azkaban without a trial. He had the Head of the DMLE had spoken for an hour or so, with her bringing whatever files she had on the man he knew as his godfather, and they were few, but what few they were able to access told them that Harry's godfather never had a trial. Amelia was off in a flash to set something up to get this man in a trial, barely remembering to thank Harry for bringing the matter into her knowledge and to ask if that was all. Obviously, that was all, because a minute after and he was already in his bedroom.

But the happiness he was sure he'd feel wasn't there, and it was because he was missing his best friend. He sighed as he turned over in his bed to lay on his stomach as he rested his chin on his intertwined hands. The way his hands were intertwined made him think of the way he and Hermione would hold hands and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.

He knew the Dursleys wouldn't tell him anything, and he knew that it had to be known, so he had gone to the library to research… growing up and such things and his reasoning made his heart beat faster. Hermione was a pretty girl – beautiful even and he was in many ways attracted to her and her beauty, both inside and out, so obviously he would think about her this way, even if it did feel scandalous, but the book had said so. He felt older, and not exaggeratedly because he could feel somehow that his soul was aging without him knowing and something told him Hermione's was as well. To be quite honest, it did freak him out to an extent.

How could his soul grow and not him, what happened that he suddenly felt this way? He closed his eyes tight, trying to remember something that could help him, an event that must have done something to him and Hermione. And his eyes snapped open when he remembered vividly, a particularly interesting and embarrassing action Hermione had done when they parted yesterday, knowing they wouldn't see each other for a while, she had kissed him, the edge of her lips barely touching the edge of his own. He had tried to ignore it, the feeling in his chest, but the only explanation he could come up with his attraction and feelings towards Hermione was that he fancied her and it had done something to their souls.

He blushed, he seemed to be doing that a lot nowadays, she was his best friend, but the feelings that he had for her, but never knew until lately was deep, so deep that he felt it in his soul. The touches, the smiles, the everything they did, it felt so great, so exciting and so wonderful because he fancied her. Merlin, did she fancy him back?

He, as a ten-year-old, shouldn't have been thinking like that – which brought up back his previous dilemma, he didn't feel like ten years old, and why did he suddenly feel a little taller? Was it puberty that just happened in a few minutes? Couldn't be. His brows furrowed as his cheeks coloured again, could it be that kiss? Could the near lip kiss she had given him be the reason everything was acting out of sorts. He had this weird thought about the bond he and his best friend – his crush – shared. Could this bond be something real and not fabricated? Could it be magical and was overpowered by the near kiss that he had gotten?

Harry Potter prided himself in knowing everything sometimes, but now, he felt he knew nothing.

...

Hermione was excited. Well, she was going to see Harry for the first time in two days, so of course, she was excited. But she was more excited than usual, which would be super super overexcited. She had enjoyed her time with her grandmother and the family time she had spent with the entire family, even Dad was lighting up a little bit as they played a little game of Scrabble and Monopoly. But there was also another reason that she was excited, she had books!

And not any other books, magical books! And not any other magical book! Her great grand aunt's magical books! Her great grand aunt, Maranda, was a witch, and Hermione finally understood how she got her magic, she wasn't a Muggleborn despite her parents being muggles, she had an ancestor who was a witch, who, obviously, passed it down to her. She couldn't wait to see Harry and tell him. She had some other exciting news concerning their mysterious bond too, that she wanted to share with her best friend.

Like Harry, she was well aware of the connection that they shared and wanted to look into it more, it happily and coincidentally turned out that her great grand aunt studied bonds and there were tons of information and research I the book she was carrying, it was a research journal really and Hermione couldn't wait to read it. She had to wait two days already because she found the collection of books on the day she was first there, and she wanted to read them with Harry, and not go ahead without him. She didn't want him to feel left out. No, not at all, the thought of not doing something with Harry made her shudder.

The park was as beautiful as ever and it reminded her that it was the reason that they had picked here in the first place, the scenery, the peace and quiet, the breeze, everything was a contributing factor to the reason the park was their favourite place to be together.

But what really caught her attention was the figure under the trees and she closed her eyes and hummed as his magic reached out to her, they were so connected. She grinned as she rushed forward, two days wasn't a long time per se, but it felt like ages when she was spending it without her best friend. He was up too and his smile was as radiant as hers – and was that a blush on his cheeks?

They closed the distance and she hugged the living daylights out of him, relishing the feeling of being in his arms once more, his strong, protective and so muscular arms.

"I've missed you," she said, and she had, for she had no way of contacting him during their physical lack of togetherness, her grandmother didn't have a telephone.

She felt his nervous chuckle on her shoulder and her eyebrows furrowed. Why was he nervous? They had hugged loads of times before and he was always joyed from what she felt from his magic. As she said that she reached out with her magic to his through their core and she felt the same amount of fierce protectiveness but it was accompanied by something she recognised as… affection.

She blushed as he broke the hug, "I missed you too," he said. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice and Hermione felt her heart flutter in hope. "H-How have you been?" He asked. Since when had powerful and strong Harry Potter stutter? She found his question an opportunity to investigate.

"I'm fine, Harry, more than fine now that I'm back with you," she whispered breathlessly into his ear. Believe it or not but prim and proper Hermione Granger had read pre-teen magazines, her excuse was that it was the only thing that was provided at her parent's dentistry. She wasn't trying to grow up, the articles had just attracted her and she was growing up, in fact, she'd be 12 on the 19th of September. It was usual for girls around her age to find the opposite gender attractive. And, truth be told, she had found Harry Potter attractive since had first recused her when she was six.

Besides, she felt oddly grown-up, as though she was older and more mature. She felt as though her magical core and soul had developed her somewhat, it had powered her growth and she became more mature, both in and out, no wonder her mother had insisted on speaking about the bird and the bees a little earlier than she had expected and prepared for. She blushed as she remembered how her mother teased her afterward about those… acts and Harry.

Harry shivered and he seemed breathless for a moment as his cheeks turned an interesting colour of red, Hermione wanted to squeal – the only other time she had squealed was when she realized she was in love with him. From what she knew about her best friend, and from what she was informed about from the magazines she had secretly taken home, boys were terrible with telling a girl they fancied her. They would stutter, they would be awkward and they would be blushing and looking at you all the time. Harry was doing all that to her and she felt like she wanted to faint. Could be possible? Could Harry Potter have a mutual attraction to her? Oh, how she wished he did.

"Err, okay," he said and she watched in inward delight as his eyes that were just looking anywhere but her flickered up to her face, then he blushed and looked away once more.

"And how are you, Harry?" She asked back sweetly, oh the joy she was feeling when he blushed once more, "You seem a little more… red than usual."

Harry's eyes widened comically and she watched with an inward snicker as he pretended to have a coughing fit. "Just fine, Hermione – what books have you brought today?" She smirked inwardly at his attempt to change the topic of conversation. He was such a boy, which was a good thing because there were times when his eyes showed a different age.

So she sat him down and told him about her time at her grandmother's house and how she found the secret passageway only accessible by magicals that led to a small room with a bookshelf containing the books she had brought with her. He was excited about her ancestor and ancestry as she was. She then went on to show him the book she found on bonds.

"So, you're saying that this book could unfold all the secrets about our bond?" He asked.

She shrugged cutely, "There's only one way to find out, isn't there?" She watched in fascination as Harry duplicated the book with a wave of his hand and soon they were searching.

It was ten minutes later that Hermione found something that made her heart skip a beat.

Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter V

Chapter V

Despite it being summer, the night unbearably cold for Hermione Granger, and she tossed and turned in her bed for what seemed to her like the hundredth time that night, trying to have sleep claim her while this shuddering sense of foreboding loomed over her. It had started at dinner, when she felt a chill around her, as though a switch had been flipped and it had internally freaked her out. Even her parents looked out of sorts as they said goodnight and everyone retreated to bed, all trying to assume and hope that it was just a sudden shift in the weather. But Hermione Granger knew better.

She was well aware of magic after all her best friend was a sun full of magic himself and Hermione could literally feel his magic right now and it was the only thing keeping her warm, even under her tons of blankets and pillows. Whatever was happening, was something magical and Hermione was genuinely scared. Despite it all though, she smiled a little, as Harry communicated with her over their bond that seemed to be strengthened after their afternoon at the park. Merlin, her day had been wonderful and she could simply and easily call it one of the best days of her life.

She remembered vividly everything they had read in the book, and they had come to the conclusion that they shared a soul bond. Their discovery sent them down a flurry of discussions that had Harry questioning her if she wanted to keep their bond. She understood why he asked and she later understood why he had looked so nervous when asking the question. She had basically lived her life feeling Harry's magic and presence within her and even the thought of losing that connection that they possessed made her feel so cold and lonely. She wouldn't have it, but still, she understood why he had asked it.

The book they read was called the Bonding of Magicals of course written by her great aunt and it spoke and explained extensively the different kinds of bonds that two magicals could possess. One of them was called the Soul Bond, and what was surprising and shocking to both her and Harry was the fact that it described her and Harry's connection so profusely. Before they decided to discuss what this meant to them, they decided to read on, and the more she remembered what she had read, the more she understood Harry's nervousness to ask the question that was on his mind.

The Soul Bond, apparently, meant that the couple who shared this bond were bonded together for life, and Harry's question was if she wanted to remove the bond because he didn't want her to feel that she was stuck with him because of this. She understood why he asked in a different manner though, it was because he was scared really, he had a bit of trust issues when it came to affection and she blamed the Dursleys for what they had done to them. It was as if he thought that he knew that she would say yes, that she was only his best friend because of the bond they shared. But he could never be so wrong.

She blushed even now as she remembers throwing her hands around her best friend that he was knocked back for a moment, the furthest she had ever knocked him back by the way, and told him repeatedly that she was his best friend for who he was and not because of their bond. Even though that was sorted with some cuddling though – they had placed privacy charms so they wouldn't attract attention as they usually did – there was still a problem that they had to deal with. A problem that was similar to the previous one, yet so different. The book said that the bond they shared had many benefits, one of them as an attraction for the other, and that sent them down another line of discussions.

The Soul Bond was powerful and apparently, for how long they had the bond, it powered not only their magic but their growth in body, mind, and soul. So, officially, she and Harry were 11 and 10 years old respectively, but because of the bond powering their growth, they were basically 13 and 12 years old. And it explained so many things. It explained why they were so mature for their official age, why Harry was so muscular for their official age and she was taller than most of the other girl's in her class, why they thought of each other that way.

She blushed as she remembered the next conversation that they had, where they discussed another topic that the book mentioned about their bond. Their attraction to each other. A discussion where she found out that Harry was actually thinking of her the same way she was of him. It was adorable really, he didn't even understand what he was feeling for her properly and he had the idea that he fancied her, but she had to explain what it really meant. Let's just say that she told him she felt the same way, and they agreed to keep the bond, that they were too young to be a couple despite the age thingy, and that until they made them official, they'd be committed to each other.

She could remember when they were younger, where they vowed to each other that they'd spend the rest of their lives together, so it wasn't much of a difference when they decided that they'd stay committed to each other forever and always. She was already planning their first Hogsmeade date in her head, a date Harry had already asked her out on.

It was now, hours after she and Harry had separated for home to see what the next day brought that she realized that the conversations, discussions, and decisions made between her and Harry were really… mature for their age. They were able to understand what dating too young meant and could bring. They were able to speak about their feelings and decide that they wanted to keep their bond because of the love they had for each other. This aging benefit that came with the soul bond, was getting to her.

And Hermione felt that there was still more to come. After the day they had, especially when she kissed his cheek as they parted, she felt that their bond had somehow strengthened to an extent and she was expecting something to happen. Harry too was awake, she could feel his magic within her own core and she smiled. She knew he could feel hers as well, she didn't know how but she still knew that he did.

Her smile widened as she felt his magic seep into hers with intent and she knew Harry was trying to warm her up, to make her fall asleep and her magic met his and she sighed dreamily as his love flowed through her veins. She closed her eyes, Harry's love and magic acting as a lullaby as she fell asleep, not hearing the sound of apparition in front of her house, and not seeing a man with a silvery beard appear out of nowhere.

…

Albus Dumbledore stood in front of the house he was informed was the house of the little girl that had made so much trouble for him and he smirked a little smirk that no one could see under the whiskers of his beard, a trait that was his reason for having a beard in the first place. He then sighed miserably as he remembered the day when his Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, had returned for her usual Muggleborn appointments and told him of the tale of Harry Potter and the young Muggleborn girl.

It was after Albus demanded a memory and saw it for himself in the pensive he owned, that he realised how bad of a predicament he was in. It was known only to a few people that Albus Dumbledore was a manipulator. Most of them trusted him blindly enough to think that he was just doing what had to be done for everything to be fine, but there were times when he was arrogant and thought that the only pathway to safety was the one he would create and lead.

Albus knew of the prophecy that was made by Sybil Trelwany and he knew that the Dark Lord was soon to be returned. What he knew that was more significant than the others, was the creation of Tom Riddle's Horcruxes, more importantly, the one that resided within the head of young Harry Potter. He remembered pacing for days locked in his study during the summer with the demands that no one should enter his study; no one at all should disturb him. Those days he thought over what he knew of the prophecy, his interpretation of it, and the Horcrux in Harry's head. He came to the decision that the only way Lord Voldemort could really die was for Young Harry to sacrifice himself for the Greater Good – after he destroyed all the other Horcruxes of course, on a mission that Albus would send him on.

To get that, Albus needed the boy to trust him, and that the people Albus was sending him to hated magic only made it easier. The boy needed to be weak and vulnerable and to see that Albus was the only person he could trust to protect him, he needed to know that Albus was the most powerful wizard in the world. But there he was a few days ago staring in shock as he watched a muscular Harry Potter confidentially use magic to protect a young witch. That he was confident and powerful unfortunately wasn't the only problem Albus had, for Albus knew a soul bond when he saw one, and it had to stop right now.

Albus shuddered as he thought of the possibilities that could happen if Harry got more and more powerful because of the soul bond, the young wizard could be a dark lord himself! Albus wouldn't let it happen, and he already had plans for who Harry's love would be. He was basically the child's magical guardian, well he wasn't, for Lily and James had gotten suspicious of him after a while and had left him out of the list of people who would be Harry's guardian if something came to happen to them. But no one would question it, because everyone knew better than to question Albus Dumbledore.

Albus promised Molly Weasley of the betrothal between Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley and he would make sure it happened, but unfortunately, there was a law in the Wizarding World that stated that two individuals had to be over the age of eleven to be betrothed to each other. A reason he had done this, was the money Molly had promised him after Ginny and Harry married, for the Weasleys would get access to the billions of Galleons that the Potters own. Galleons that Harry Potter would not know of. Albus would let the boy know of the Potter Trust Vault his parents had left for him until he could claim the others when he reached of age, but what the boy wouldn't know was that Albus was and still would be taking money out of there as well, to pay all the professor's monthly salaries.

He was sure that James would have understood that he was doing this for the Greater Good and would trust him, so he didn't think that they would mind. Why Molly chose not to tell her husband, Albus did not know, but frankly, he didn't really care. All he cared about was the money. He could already imagine the things he could do, the political power and influence he would gain when he got the money the Weasley matriarch promised him. If only there wasn't that law.

But there was something else standing in his way, and her name was Hermione Granger, and Albus was going to erase her memory, then leave for the Dursleys where he would erase Harry's and the Dursley's memories and adjust them, and place locks on Harry's magic. Putting him back under the stairs where he himself had requested the Dursleys to put him if the boy was already out of there, would be great as well. It was only a matter of time.

So he disillusioned himself, wondering why he hadn't done it before he had apparated but shrugging the thought off and walking past the large tree and to the front door. An alahamora later and he was through the door and up the stairs and into the girl's bedroom. He whispered "obliviate" with a smirk and soon he was out the door and apparating towards Number 4 Privet Drive. What the Great Albus Dumbledore didn't know though, that was the girl was protected by something more powerful than magic: love; and the power behind the love was so powerful that the bond she shared with her best friend suddenly strengthened until it could strengthen no more. More importantly, though, he didn't know that the spell did not work, nor did he know that Harry Potter was spending the night in his trunk.

When Albus Dumbledore arrived at the Dursley's home a minute later, he was so panicked about not seeing a Harry Potter that he apparated back to Hogwarts without editing the other members of the house's memories. Albus Dumbledore was slacking.

…

Albus Dumbledore's head was hurting as he laid down in bed that night, he didn't find Harry Potter and didn't get to edit the Dursley's memories, that was two mistakes that he hadn't meant to make, but what he had done to the Granger girl would be enough to separate the two. In fact, if Harry was heartbroken enough, he might seek comfort from someone. Maybe Hagrid would introduce him to the magical world the same day the Weasleys were going shopping? It would give Ginny and Molly an opportunity to comfort the boy and gain his trust. He sighed as he turned over in bed, tomorrow he had to attend a Wizengamot meeting, one that had been called from out of the blue that he had no idea of. He just had to clear his mind of this night's activities and attend the session and do his best not to snap on anyone.

…

Amelia thought last night, that today was going to be such a hard day, for to convince the entire ministry that the events that took place on the 31st of December, 1981 could be partially wrong would be considered a wild accusation and would surely have multiple Lords and Ladies scoffing at her, but when she had accidentally ran into the Minister this morning, and he had questioned her about the reason she called an impromptu Wizengamot meeting, she told him the truth and with some right words, she was able to convince the man that giving Sirius Black a trial could be something beneficial to his career. For it would show him as the Minister who would want to see something be done properly and efficiently.

She knew that once she had the Minister on her side, she basically owned half of the Wizengamot member's influence. Even members from the Dark Alliance like Lucius Malfoy would stand up for the notion because they wanted to show the Minister that they agreed with him. Amelia never really believed the lies that the Malfoys and the Notts made to lie out of Azkaban and the Dementor's Kiss, so she always kept a close eye on them and their Death Eater friends.

She thought that even years after the events of the last war, she would outgrow the feeling of sorrow and pain when she sat in the seat that was supposed to be sat in by her brother, but she could never. Her brother had been a wonderful man and father, but his mistake was following Albus Dumbledore's orders and getting himself killed on a mission Albus Dumbledore sent him on.

It was one of the reasons that Amelia hated Dumbledore. She was basically the reason that her brother was dead and she could never forgive him for that, no one, though, knew of her inner thoughts of the man. Just as she was a different person on the inside than she was on the outside, Albus Dumbledore was too, but she could see through his kindly and grandfatherly demeanour. Dumbledore had too many secrets for her to like, he worked on his own accord and didn't trust anyone to do anything properly, that he started the Order of the Phoenix to do things himself. He might be powerful, she would give him that, but that didn't mean that the rules and guidelines did not apply to him; he still had to follow them, rules are rules after all.

Speaking of the devil, he walked into the chamber the same time a few others had in a discussion of some sorts and Amelia noted that he looked quite haggard, as though he hadn't had a good night's sleep and she wondered why not that she cared of course. For all she cared, she hoped that he was having nightmares of the people who died placing their trust in his hands.

She closed her eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of her brother's magic in the chair, and looked forward as the Chief Warlock finally found his chair and sat comfortably in it. He seemed to be in his own thoughts as he looked around the room to every single member and as his eyes met hers, she held it fiercely and made sure that her Occlumency shields were up. If it wasn't clear already, she had no trust whatsoever in Albus Dumbledore.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't use Legilimency, as using that on any Minister worked, no less a high ranking Ministry worked could see fines against you up to ten thousand galleons or at least six months in Azkaban. There was a part of her that wished that he had tried performing the arts of the mind on her.

…

Albus Dumbledore tried to once more reign in his sigh as he sat down in his usual high seat of superiority in Courtroom Ten. He had experienced one of the most disturbing sleep of his entire life last night and he hoped that his lack of sleep didn't affect his performance today in a meeting that was so necessary that it was required to be impromptu and didn't wait for the usual monthly one. Blinking slowly he nodded as Lord Sylvester passed by him and headed towards his out seat and he noted with an inward smirk that the man nodded back to him with respect and awe.

Defeating Gallert Grindlewald and gaining the title of the Supreme Mugwhump of the International Confederation on Wizards had surely done wonders to his political power and he was thankful that he had also gained the title of the most powerful wizard alive, the only wizard that Lord Voldemort was really scared of. His eyes swept over the many influential people in the chamber holding their gazes and striking a bit of fear in them, forcing them to understand that he was the one in power here, and took satisfaction as they looked nerved by his gaze. But then he met Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's gaze and it took all of his willpower to not look away.

Something about her glare told him that today wasn't going to be a good day for him. Hours later when he left the room grumbling to himself as other departing members spoke about the upcoming trial for Sirius Black, he knew he was correct.


	6. Chapter VI

NOTE THAT In this chapter, things move a little fast.

...

Chapter VI

He knew things that no one else other than Hermione knew, as they had explored magic together, and found out unbelievable things that he was sure that no one else knew of. Even without access to magical books, or magical experience, they had advanced magically by themselves and without help. But if there was one thing he was willing to trade all of his knowledge for, was for his nightmares to stop.

Hermione knew about some of them, she knew that he always had nightmares about green lights and the night his parents had been murdered, but she didn't know how bad it was, how extensive the damage to his brain was. It was something he kept secret from her, probably the only thing that he's ever kept from her and he wanted it to stay that way. And with the help of meditation and a whole lot of effort and pain, he was able to keep it that way.

If there was a word in the dictionary, that he was looking for to explain why he wasn't telling her, he would have gone with resigned. There was something unspoken, something definite that told him that it wasn't going to change, that his brain and mind, and sanity were messed up or was going to be messed up and it would stay that way. He didn't have the hope to look for something that would help him and he didn't have the heart to tell Hermione and then watch her kill herself to find a way to help him.

It was official, Harry Potter's mind was broken, and he didn't know how he could fix it. He first became aware of it when he was becoming more and more aware of his magic, and his special ability called Eidetic Memory. His ability allowed him to remember everything he touched, tasted, read, spoke, you name it he could remember it. It also allowed him to remember past events of his life, ones that happened when he was a baby, and so on.

To describe it, he would have said he had a high, repetitive, uncontrollable case of PTSD. Every time he closed his eyes, the nightmares would be reawakened, time after time he would remember the day his parents were killed, he would remember the day he was beaten almost to death by the hand of Vernon Dursley, he could remember the time when Hermione was being assaulted by the bullies. If that wasn't bad enough, he later became aware of another person's magic within him, and he knew after a while that the magic, was dark, fighting his own magic for control, and making all his dreams into nightmares, and having him sleep through them showing him different tragic possibilities of what could have happened if he hadn't done something or the other.

He could remember the night where he had nightmares the entire night about the things those girls would have done to Hermione if he hadn't stopped them. It was one of the reasons he internally questioned himself at every turn, every decision he had to make, his head was a pounding disaster, each second he was running different possibilities of what could happen if he did this, or if he didn't. He was second-guessing himself about everything.

The night where the dark magic inside of him made him think of things he hadn't done or even witnessed terrified him to actual tears. In those dreams, he was murdering and torturing and he had the face of a noseless snake devil.

He could never catch a break, for each night, the nightmares would return. Sometimes it would be the night his parents were murdered, showing him how they were murdered, and how they could be murdered, and other nights he would see things he had never seen before, in a body that was clearly not his.

And each day, each night and second he was asleep, he was slowly losing his mind – slowly losing his sanity, and he felt that it was just a matter of time before he actually did. They were becoming too much, they were scaring him even though he never showed it. He was so terrified at it that he would be silencing his room at night so he could hide the secrets of his screams and cries at night. He couldn't remember the night he even had a good night's sleep.

They were times when he would be able to fend off the dark magic, but not the nightmares, and it would be the nights where he got the most sleep – it would be the nights where Hermione's magic mingled with his. Thinking about their connection, made him blush, even in the darkness of the kitchen within the trunk where he was getting a glass of cold water to help him shake off the remains of his last rumble with a nightmare. They shared a soul bond, an actual soul bond! And she liked him, she actually liked him in that way.

Hermione Granger was simply the best person in the entire universe, he was sure enough to say, she was brilliant, she was funny and clever and loving and caring and that they promised each other that they would be a couple, like they had done before when they promised each other they'd spend the rest of their lives together, simply made him feel as though he could conquer the world.

She was awake right now, he could tell from the presence of her magic, it seemed particularly strong tonight, and he presumed that the reason behind it was because their relationship had become stronger as well, and had, by extension, strengthened their connection to each other.

But she was a bit troubled, her magic was dancing around her protectively and he felt proud that she could control her magic so well, he had taught her after all, and he took pride in thinking that he actually taught Hermione Granger something. But his magic was still stronger. He wasn't being unfair to Hermione, in fact, she agreed with him multiple times before, because his magic was indeed more powerful than hers, it was more trained. So he sent his own magic to her, filling her with warmth, yet placing a blanket of protection around her, just how he liked it.

As her magic became calm and subtle, he knew that she was asleep, and with that in mind he tried to have sleep claim him once more – and even as the nightmares returned, he held a sense of contentment, knowing that his Hermione was safe with his magic.

...

The morning when Harry Potter woke up, he knew something was wrong and he knew that something was right at the same time. He was torn on which emotion he should act on, on one hand, he felt so much love, and so much contentment and peace that he just wanted to lay down back on the bed in his bedroom in the magical trunk and bask in all its lovely glory. But on the other hand, something felt so off, that he knew that someone was in danger. He knew that Hermione was in danger.

He was up in his bed at once, his magic flaring immediately as paper and clothing flew everywhere and anywhere, but he didn't care, even as his bed toppled over behind him, as he exited the door and went for the ladder that led up and out of the magical trunk.

For once in his life, Harry Potter was overwhelmed by all the magic he was feeling. Ever since he was young and he started to meditate, he was aware of his magic, and as he grew, he was aware of the magic that grew with him, and always kept them both in the same league. But today, his magic seemed to age without him knowing, it seemed to fly past what he was aware of and into a different league, a stronger, more powerful league that made him giddy inside, that made him feel confident and indestructible.

His clothes floated to him as he exited the trunk and as usual, they placed themselves on, but he was suddenly aware there was a problem when he tried to walk with them on, they were short. His mind was overloaded with worry for his best friend, so much that he didn't care about his clothing, and his magic acted on its own, lengthening the fabric until it once more fit him perfectly.

The magic in his veins made him breathless and despite the hurry, he was in to get to Hermione's house, apparently by running there if it was necessary, he had to stop and catch his breath. It wasn't that he was tired, or that he was exhausted or so worried for Hermione that his breathing was uneven, it was his magic that was making him breathe heavily. He wasn't used to the amount of power he now, somehow, had.

But there was something that he knew for ages, something that was apparent and that he had taught Hermione as soon as he found she was a witch, and that was that magic, was all about intent. He figured that was how he apparated and was suddenly standing next to a sleeping Hermione Granger.

He was suddenly overwhelmed by memories as he dropped to the ground, memories that were again, not his, but unlike the memories he'd had before that weren't his, these were familiar, they were Hermione's.

He was in a tunnel, roaming through her memories of everything, since she was a baby, when she first walked, everything. And he felt a little bad when he realized that he also saw her private moments, for instance, when she took a bath, but the thing was, that he couldn't stop it. Besides, he and Hermione shared everything, so even if he saw her naked, in her own memories because he was given no choice, they would permit it. They were best friends like that, soul mates, and there was no awkwardness between them.

"Harry?" Her voice was an angel, the voice of an angel that halted his inner confusion and stopped him from roaming through her memories. He was back in her room and she was in front of him, on her knees and her hand behind his head as he laid on the ground. She bore a concerned expression, but also a sad one, as though she realised what had been happening to him, and then he realised that she had. For when he had witnessed her memories before she woke him, she witnessed his. And she knew about the nightmares, she knew about the dark magic that was inside of him.

And suddenly, her magic was inside of him, more than before and he was engulfed in the abundant feeling of warmth and love, so much pure love and affection. "Harry," her angelic voice said he could see her bending down to him, and he felt her lips on his forehead and he closed his eyes as her love for him became overwhelming. "Harry, you can fight this; you’re so much stronger than it. Harry, you are loved, fight it with the love you have in you. Harry, I love you."

The Dark Magic that was inside of him screamed in agony as Hermione's love pushed it out of his body and killed it. The love that his best friend had for him was too much for it to bear and overwhelmed the dark magic inside of him, forcing it to not only leave his body but to greet death.

They were on the ground now, both breathing heavily and Harry couldn't believe what just happened. He couldn't believe that the dark magic that ruined his dreams more than they already were was now gone, and it was because of Hermione. The effort it had taken them to defeat the dark magic, left them exhausted, and they just laid there on the floor as they tried to catch their breath. But in as much pain as he was, there was a question that was just begging him to be asked, "Do you really?" He asked breathlessly as he turned sideways to her, she looked older. She looked as though she was thirteen, in fact! Sharper jawline, less chubby cheeks, more abundant freckles, and her buck teeth were no longer there.

"I do," she said as she turned to him with an affectionate look, and her eyes too widened as she saw what he assumed to be an older version of himself, for he felt as though he had grown as well. He could feel that he had grown and was no longer in a ten year old's body, it explained why his clothing wasn't fitting this morning. "But I didn't say it out loud."

Their eyes widened together as they both realised what happened, "The Soul Bond," they said simultaneously as they got up and went to the mirror. They were indeed, older. He could assume that they were both thirteen years old, he was taller than her, and still kept his muscular frame and his green eyes were sparkling while his messy black hair was everywhere. What was more startling was that he was seeing without his glasses.

"Harry, your scar," Hermione said as she sat him down on her bed and touched his forehead, sure enough, his scar was no longer there, it was fading.

"Hermione, dear, are you awake?" Hermione's mother's voice came from the other side of the door. Their eyes widened as they turned to each other, and without prompt, their magic acted on its own, and soon they were covered in glamour charms, their bodies looking as they had before.

"We'll speak later then," Harry said.

"Or we can speak whenever we want," Hermione replied and what startled and excited him was that her lips weren't moving, they were speaking telepathically.

"But we'll meet at the park," he continued as he stepped towards her and as Hermione's mother rapped on the door once more. She nodded and was shooing him away as her mother knocked impatiently again, but he stepped forward and in a swift movement, pecked her lips, they weren't too young anymore, they were basically thirteen, the age he wanted them to get together. "Oh, and Hermione," he said as her eyes widened, her knees buckled and her cheeks flushed, "I love you too." And as a grin bloomed on both of their faces, he apparated just as the door opened and Jean Granger walked in.

…

Ever since he was young, he had never experienced love. He knew that his parents must have loved him, showed him tons of affection, but he wasn't aware of it then, as he didn't know what was happening. And the only way he could think he felt loved was imagining them with him, by remembering the things they had said to him, had done to him, the times his mother had tucked him in the nursery and kissed his forehead goodnight; the times when his father would throw him in the air and catch him back; the times his godfather Padfoot would let him ride him on his furry back whenever he was in his dog form when he had bought him his toy broom.

When Hermione became part of his life, he was finally feeling the affection he craved so much, even if he didn't admit it to himself. She had the most beautiful soul, the warmest, loving magic that he was privileged to have run through his veins and mix with his own. But even then, he didn't feel fully loved.

He wasn't being greedy and wanting to be loved more than anyone else or anything obnoxious, it was just that there was a feeling inside of him that was going against the love and affection Hermione had for him. It was the dark magic, and it didn't like the love, it didn't want the feeling of affection to rival its own depressing and saddening one.

But then today happened. Something had happened and the bond he and Hermione shared and was suddenly strengthened and the love they had for each other had no limits and it practically destroyed the dark magic inside of him. He was free of it, and Hermione's love was abundant in him, it was swimming inside of his veins and blood cells, and he felt so content he could sleep right here under the shade of their favourite tree.

He was finally loved, he was finally feeling the love he always wanted. And it was thanks to Hermione. She was smiling right now as she helped her mother prepare lunch, he knew everything she was doing and thinking, and neither minded. What he hated was that he couldn't speak with her right now, because she was cooking and needed to focus. But even though she needed to focus, she was mixing her magic with his and he could feel her smiling.

They had spoken this morning through their bond and decided that right then they would talk about normal stuff and a little about their bond. But they mutually decided that they would talk extensively about their bond and what happened when they were guaranteed to be alone in the park.

He closed his eyes as he laid back further, enjoying the peace, he had never felt so content and in peace before. Now that the dark magic wasn't inside of him anymore, he felt as though he had been released. Gone were the days where he would have to secretly fight it off in the middle of class when it was particularly troubling, long gone were the days where he would relentlessly exercise to get his mind off of the dreams it placed in his head.

He sighed as he let his mind and magic wander, suddenly he was in the sky flying through the clouds, and then he'd be a wave in the nearby ocean, and then he'd be a bird on the shore of that ocean. Magic really had no limits when you were feeling like this.

It was a feeling he never wanted to not experience, and it was a feeling Hermione had given him. He smiled as he thought about his best friend and hopefully, after today, they'd be something more. He still couldn't believe that the soulbond they shared was so powerful that it powered their growth to such an extent that they aged to thirteen year olds.

They were older than thirteen year olds in both mind and magic, so becoming thirteen year olds in body, was quite fitting. It also allowed him to do what he wouldn't have done if it hadn't happened. He was aware of the difficulties and problems that would have come if he had started to date Hermione when she was in her eleven year old body. Richard Granger was one of them, and Harry didn't want to deal with the man. Not because he was scared of him, but because he was sure he'd lose his temper if he and the man ever held a conversation. The way the Granger man was treating Hermione and her mother with a cold shoulder and how he was growing distant to them, was both frightening and angering, as he didn't want Hermione to grow up without a father in his life, and yet, the way he was treating them made Harry want him to leave.

But now they were basically thirteen year olds, and whether they would keep that a secret and keep on the glamour charms, was a topic they had to discuss when she arrived. It would be really weird when they arrived at Hogwarts taller and bigger than all the other first years.

Another topic, a really important one, was the way their bond was suddenly strengthened. Something had to happen to cause the sudden change and he was hoping to find out today.

He wondered what his parents thought about Hermione. Did they like her? Did they think she was the right person for him? Did they agree with his feelings for her? Did they like and understand the soul bond that they shared and found it fitting? He wouldn't know of course, as much as he was loathed to say it, but there was something inside of him, that told him that they would like her.

From what he remembered from his short time with his mother, she was a brilliant woman. She and Hermione would've gotten along quite brilliantly.

Of course, the thought about his parents triggered the thought about his godfather. Sirius Black, the man accused to have sold out his parents to the Dark Wizard Voldemort and kill 19 muggles along with one of his best friends called Peter Pettigrew. But Harry knew better.

He had come across this information when he was reading about the second blood war in the Darkest Events in Magical History and he was livid when he read the part about his godfather being accused of such atrocious activities. He knew for a fact that the real traitor was the man believed to be the one killed by his godfather.

In fact, some of his parents' last words to him, was that Peter Pettigrew, a man he had known as his father's best friend and by the nickname Wormtail, was the real traitor and that Sirius Black wasn't.

He wondered now if that was his parents' plan after all. To be honest, he wasn't sure if they knew about his eidetic memory – they had never spoken about it after all. Did they perhaps know and told him so he'd remember years on to make a difference if Sirius was indeed believed as a traitor? His parents really were brilliant.

Something else he remembered from the day his parents were murdered, was the man who had first came to see the house, before either Sirius or the large giant-man had. Black greasy hair and a blank expression were the way his father had constantly described the man he remembered being called Severus Snape, or Snivillous, as his father liked to say.

But the day he saw the man with the closest resemblance to his parents' description of Severus Snape, the man didn't have a blank expression, in fact, the man was crying.

The man named Severus Snape clearly had affection for his mother, he knew, for he had analysed everything about that disastrous night. No random person would have held his mother like that and cried and whimpered. From what he understood from Hogwarts: A History, the same individual was now the Potions Master and Professor, along with the head of Slytherin House, at Hogwarts.

The professors at Hogwarts were an interesting bunch. Professor McGonagall, he knew of course from her visit here, and she was the head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress, as she had explained and as he had read about for extra confirmation. And also as she had mentioned, she was the Transfiguration Professor.

He knew her. It seemed that after the Dark Magic left his body, his memories were far clearer than they were before. Mum and Dad always spoke highly of her, as they always spoke about everything and anything when he was around, because he was always around, they included him in everything.

They said that she was as close as family, and dad had told him that the next time they saw her, when – if – all of this was over, he should call her 'Aunt Minnie'. Harry knew the next time he saw her, he'd call her that, just as his father had told him to do.

The Charms Professor was a half-goblin believe it or not, and Harry was interested in the class already when he found out that. The man seemed interesting to his ears and Charms looked like something he could take a fancy to, so the combination was great for him. The Charms Professor was the head of Ravenclaw House.

Two subjects that interested him greatly were Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts, the two seemed like subjects he could excel in. While DADA posed as something he could grow to become exceptional in, he had a lot of experience handling plants in the Dursley's backyard, so the experience could help him.

The Professor who taught the subject called Herbology looked kind and humble, and she was the Head of Hufflepuff house. While the Professor for DADA, looked really, really incompetent to be a professor, much less teach a subject that seemed to be essential to living in the dangers of the Wizarding world.

While he knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover, he could tell that this man wasn't the right person to teach that particular subject. But he'd see what the man could do, after all, everyone had surprises within them. There were other different subjects, like Astronomy and the yearly first year Flying Class, but all the good class would come his and Hermione's way until they were in their third year.

Primary school was boring. But unlike the other students who thought it was boring because they were learning, he and Hermione thought it was boring because they already knew everything that was being taught to them. In fact, each year before the school term started, they would have already finished reading the entire year's curriculum, and finished the required textbooks, and starting on the textbooks for the next year.

It seemed that Hogwarts would be a slight repeat of that. For all the good, exciting classes, and the exciting years for some classes, were third year and upwards. It was unfair that they were smarter than their actual years. He had already started studying Physics by the time they started teaching multiplication and division in school.

The sun was starting to dim a little, showing that it was late in the afternoon when he spied Hermione prancing towards him with the largest smile on her pretty, pretty face, and instantly his magic acted on its own and placed privacy charms around them. Hermione of course, ran straight past those wards, as the intent of the magic, was to let only the two of them through, and soon, his face was filled with bushy hair as she hugged him tightly.

Her hugs were simply the best, her loving, warm embrace never failed to place a smile on his face, or to cheer him up on the darkest of days. Merlin, meant it when he said that he loved her because he did. He'd never been surer about something else before, he was bloody in love with Hermione Granger.

There was no doubt about it, no matter their age, and how young they were, there was no way around saying that he loved her, because he did. Even if they were eleven years old in body he would have told her. To hell with the consequences, he loved her.

"I love you, too, Harry," she said and he turned back to her. She was back into her thirteen year old self he had seen her in this morning after what happened, a large smile, and a large blush over her face as she stared lovingly at him – he hadn't even realised that he too had changed back into his thirteen year old body.

Magic truly was amazing, he thought as she wrapped her hands around his neck and brought herself closer to him, and so was Hermione.

…

"Something must have happened," Hermione said as she paced back and forth in front of him, her sundress flowing with the wind as her eyebrows furrowed deeply in thought. He just laid back on the trunk as he watched her in awe, a dreamy smile still on his face after they shared their second kiss, and third, and fourth, and so on. The feeling of her lips on his was simply amazing and pleasurable. It seemed impossible to describe, but yet, he could think of hundreds of words to describe those angelic lips of hers. He still couldn't believe that she was his girlfriend now and that he was her boyfriend. He didn't know how he had the courage to ask her if she'd be his – even though it was more than obvious that they were together. He just thought that it would be nice to formally ask her, and assumed that she would've liked it – found it romantic, or something.

She turned to him, but she wasn't exactly looking at him, she was too in thought to notice, "Yesterday, our bond was stronger than it was before, yes, and I think it's because we admitted our feelings for each other. It could be a possibility, because all you speak about sometimes when you're teaching me about magic, is that magic is all about intent, and therefore, emotion. So as our emotions for each other grow stronger, it seemed that the bond strengthened as well. What's puzzling, is that nothing more was said or thought between the two of us between when we left for home, and when we went to sleep. It's quite obvious that something happened in the middle of the night – something so far, unknowledgeable to us – that caused or bond to strengthen so much, that we've fully bonded in mind and the soul – it was strong enough to power our growth as well. We just need to find out what it is!" She sat down next to him pulling her knees up to her chest, and he could hear, thanks to their bond, that her mind was a mess of scrambled thoughts.

And thanks to their long friendship and how much he knew her, he knew that she was getting frustrated. He could feel the magic leave him as he transferred it to Hermione as she closed her eyes dreamily instantly.

It took a moment for them to calm down, whenever they shared magic now, it was so powerful that it was overwhelming at times. The power of their magic and the power behind their love for each other mixed in their magic was immensely pleasurable.

"Thanks, Harry," Hermione said as she turned to him with a large smile. As a reward, she pecked him on the lips. Neither of them could get enough of the other's lips it seemed. They were just mesmerised that they were finally allowed to kiss the other.

"You're welcome," he grinned. He then stood up a little and kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I have an idea how we could find out." He announced softly.

"You do?" She asked with narrowed eyes, "then why did you make me ramble?"

He grinned cheekily at her, "I just thought it looked rather cute." He relished her red cheeks and adorable, shy smile but continued, "Remember this morning, when we got rid of the dark magic inside of –" He realised his mistake as he spoke the sentence, and he watched, as her eyes narrowed and as her nostrils flared. He expected it.

"That reminds me!" She said as she got up, and he got up as well. She smacked his chess. Once, twice, thrice. He didn't even know she could hit this hard, "why didn't you tell me about the nightmares!?" She asked as she genuinely slapped him. He deserved it. "Why didn't you tell me, Harry James Potter!? You suffered away nights and nights and I didn't know a single bloody thing, I could have helped you!"

He immediately saw she was going to break down and he wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed into his shoulder, "You've suffered so much, Harry." She mumbled, "And I felt useless that I couldn't help you through it. I've only experienced some of the nightmares you had, Harry, and was so terrified. I can't believe the things that you've been through by yourself – the things you've let yourself go through by yourself."

"I know," he whispered as he rubbed her back, "It was selfish and really uncalled for, we've shared everything since we were six, I should have shared this with you as well – we should have gone through it together like we always have and always will."

She rubbed her eyes and smiled a little, "I'll let it slip," she said, still in his arms, "But just this once. From now on, they'll be no more secrets kept from each other." At his nod, she continued, "I know things aren't cleared up, Harry, that everything's just a bit confused right now – we haven't even finished reading the soulbond book to expect what to come next. But whatever does come next, we'll face it together, do you understand me?"

"Of course," he whispered.

She smiled a little smirk, "Now, I do believe you owe your girlfriend an apology before you go back to explaining what you were explaining before."

A few kisses later and an accidental touch of their teeth and tongues, which stopped the kisses because of their embarrassment, Harry was in the same position as he was before, holding her hands and internally celebrating when he heard Hermione's stray thought about how romantic it felt.

"As I was saying," he said "remember this morning, when we got rid of the dark magic inside of me? We both had access to each other's memories and we didn't see them from our point of view, we saw them from a third person's point of view. What I'm saying is that, if you allow me back into your memories, your memories of last night where something clearly happened – we can find out how it happened."

Hermione's eyes lit up she beamed at him, "That's brilliant, Harry."

He blushed slightly, "Thanks," he mumbled. "I was thinking that we do that later, before we go home, maybe even when we're home because we can still access each other's memories and speak to each other because of the bond. Right now, we should discuss, other things, like how we're going to tell your mum and dad."

"We're doing no such thing," Hermione said instantly.

"Hermione –"

"No, Harry… it'll be too much for them to handle. Mum might be fine with it, understanding she is. But dad, he'll go berserk, I think we should keep this between the two of us." He nodded as he brought his hands around her. "As for Hogwarts," she continued, "we'll have to keep our glamour charms on." He nodded.

He closed his eyes as the breeze blew his hair and he looked into the distance, this was so beautiful. Not the background of the sunset they were watching, but the feeling he was experiencing. There were times that he withheld himself from feeling emotions, but the love he was feeling, the love he craved so much for was being given to him by the single most important person in his world, the person he loved, and the tears escaped his eyes as Hermione shifted her position so he was sobbing into her chest. He was loved. He was actually, genuinely loved.

"We're going to fix you, Harry, both of us – you and I – just how we like it, just how it'll always be… I love you." He just held her tighter as they watched the sunset, his head on her lap as she lovingly stroke his hair. He felt cherished.

They were only interrupted minutes later, just as Harry was preparing to escort her home, by four owls. Two were for Harry, and two were also for Hermione. The first letter to Harry was from the Ministry of Magic, congratulating him on his magical marriage and soul bond to Lady Hermione Jean Potter and informing him of his emancipation. The other was from Gringotts congratulating him on his soul bond and marriage to Hermione and asking him to come and claim the title of Lord for all of his houses.

For Hermione, there was one from the Ministry congratulating her on her magical marriage and soul bond to Lord Harry James Potter and explaining that she was now emancipated. And the other was from Gringotts, informing her that now that she has been emancipated, she should come for an inheritance check. An inheritance check that was requested by an ancestor she did not know.

They both looked at each other with wide eyes, they were husband and wife now in the magical world. Hermione grabbed his hand and in a moment of spectacular magic apparated them to a place he was unfamiliar with, but he knew they needed their privacy, after all, they had a whole set of new discussions that needed to be discussed. But both of them knew, regardless of what happened, that there were in this together, just how they wanted it to be. Besides neither of them really minded their apparent marriage. What was their problem was the people who would.

He didn't know where he was, but he walked over to Hermione quickly, and she accepted his hug, "This isn't going to change anything between us," he said and she was thinking the same thing. But, if he was being honest, things were definitely moving too fast.

"No, it won't," she said as she stepped back and looked lovingly into his eyes. "I still love you. This is just a step that the soulbond included that we didn't know we were going to take as yet. I can't believe we're married though," she said as she sat in a seat that appeared behind her. She smiled at his confused and startled expression, "welcome, Harry, to my great grand aunt's study."

…

A/N: I HATE DRAMA, SO DON'T EXPECT ANY. I won't allow Harry and Hermione to question their love for each other, they're going to discuss this and not walk away because they're scared of it. 

Also, do you agree things are moving quite fast?


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter VII

They cuddled the entire night in front of the crackling fire as they held each other tightly and relished the feeling of being in each other's arms. Hermione couldn't have been more comfortable and content as she curled further into her boyfriend – sorry, her husband's chest – and withheld a purr that was threatening to break through. She really was comfortable, and it was safe to say that this was the most comfortable position in the entire universe.

Especially after the high emotions and tough and difficult decisions they had to make, she felt as though her content and Harry's own one from what she could feel from their bond, was well deserved and definitely well-needed. They had spoken a lot last night, about anything and everything that came with their new position as husband and wife – something she still couldn't believe despite everything that had happened.

Just a few days ago he was just her crush – the guy she fancied since she could remember; and then they found out they shared a soul bond, and then they were in a relationship, having taken their soul bond to another level and unlocking the benefits that came with it, and now they were magically married and had gained independence.

She curled further into his chest – if that was remotely possible – and finally, a purr left her lips as her fingers softly traced the outline of his back muscles through his shirt.

She sighed in contentment and pleasure. Harry's warmth, both by his physical presence and the presence of his magic within her, was wondrous, but apprehension and anxiety still laid within her.

Especially as she remembered one of the most difficult discussions of the night, and most definitely, her life. How she was going to tell her parents about her and Harry's situation and that she was now his lady – his wife in the magical world.

In short terms, she decided that she wouldn't tell them, at least, she wouldn't tell them as yet. Harry had been a bit hesitant when she explained what she was going to do – or rather, what she wasn't going to do, but he complied when she used her position as his now wife.

Merlin, she loved to say and think of her position as Harry's wife. Hermione Potter! Hermione Jean Potter! She internally swooned to herself, it was literally a dream come true. Tons of days she had called herself that in the mirror, giggling like a schoolgirl – which she basically was – and as she wrote his name and hers after their marriage (which she had dreamt about) together in a heart. Unlike other girls in the school, she didn't have anyone to giggle with about the boy she fancied, so she giggled with herself and sometimes, her mother.

She sighed at the thought of her mother, her wonderful, lovely mother. The mother she'd be leaving behind soon, as she and Harry get as far away as they could right now, as they… eloped?

It was a hard decision to make, but they knew it was the right one. For her father would not agree with his eleven year old daughter, who was basically thirteen – but underage nevertheless in the muggle world – being married. Hermione already knew that he'd do whatever in his power to break them up, to stop this from happening, and it would probably even cost her magic and Hogwarts – even Harry!

So the decision had been made and they were going to run away. Running away from her grandmother would be difficult as well, for Hermione loved her, but couldn't stay with her or tell her because of age. While she knew her grandmother was strong and persistent, she was still old and unfortunately had diabetes. So no one had told her about her magical powers, because no one wanted to risk the chance of a heart attack or anything equally disastrous.

They would be going to Gringotts at first, for Harry to claim his titles as Lord of his houses, and for her to have her inheritance test and to find a place for them to stay when they ran away.

Who in the name of Merlin had requested for her to have an inheritance check, was lost to Hermione. But there was something that told her that it related to the room they were currently in. She had found this room a few days ago and she already knew that it was her great grand aunt's. But her great grand aunt hadn't been alive when she was born – no less when her mother was pronounced pregnant.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day for her and Harry. After Harry secretly claimed his titles and after she did her inheritance check, they were going to discuss a few things with Harry's account manager. Things such as where they were going to live now after they ran away. From what she heard of the families Harry was the Lord of, they had tons of properties, so they could choose a nice, comfortable place they could stay in until they had to leave for Hogwarts.

Hermione burrowed her head into Harry's chest, they were yet to discuss what had happened the night before last night, the night that seemed to change a lot of things in their life. She figured that they'd leave that for another day when they were able to sit back for a while and calm down from the rush of things.

The thought of memories reminded her of Harry's ones and she gripped her hands around him as a shudder rippled through her body. The dreams he had and the memories of the dark magic within him, were so dark and so disturbing and disgusting, that she had to hold back the urge to wretch.

She peeked at the sleeping form of the boy she was in love with. He was in so much peace and the amount of relief and content that radiated off him was extensive. His love and gratitude currently running through her veins, making her giddy with excitement and love. The world was turning, things were moving, changes were being made, but whatever happened, they'd face it together.

…

When he awoke in the morning, he knew instantly that he had just experienced one of the best nights of his life, a night where he had actually fallen asleep and stayed asleep without nightmares plaguing his dreams and without dark magic lurking in his brain. And he knew that it was Hermione that was responsible for his content and happiness. He had felt, even when he was sleeping, her magic within his very bones and mixing with his own and he was sure that this amount of content and peace was illegal.

He never wanted to get up as he tightened his hands around the sleeping form of his wife, he just wanted to stay here on his own with Hermione by his side as they laid in each other's arms, the world that had been cruel to them being left to rot. But he knew that was impossible and as an apparent husband – Merlin he loved that title – and as the Lord of esteemed houses, he had responsibilities of his own. One of them being that he had to claim their ownership in the first place and another being he had to get one of the family properties to have him and Hermione stay in.

He reached out to Hermione, not wanting to wake her up but knowing that he had to, for their schedule today would be extremely packed and it would be best if they got started as soon as possible. His hands rubbed her back and Hermione purred – actually purred! – in his arms and he knew already that he was addicted to that sound.

Her face was scrunched up and her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips pouted cutely as her delicate hands tightened their hold on him, as she tried to bury herself into the side of his chest. Merlin, he could so get used to this. Only once before had they fallen asleep in each other's arms and it had been a day where they'd been knackered after a particularly hard day of school and after they retreated to the comfort of their tree in the park, protected from view by Harry's magic.

It had been wonderful waking up in her arms and being the person she used as her cuddle teddy bear as she slept, and this time was far better, as their relationship and friendship had extended extensively. He really could get used to this.

Maybe the house they were going to live in was going to be similar to this setup, a cosy loveseat, a fireplace with endless crackling despite it being summer, and bookshelves around them. If there wasn't a room like this, then he would make one himself.

"Hermione," he whispered. He called once, twice, thrice and every time she just slapped his hands away and pretended to ignore him as she buried herself further into his chest, if that was even possible, but then he had an idea and he hoped it worked. "Hermione Potter."

She was up in an instant, straddling his stomach as she rubbed her eyes and as her bushy hair fell forward to frame her face. He grinned cheekily as she narrowed her eyes at him, looking ready to pounce on him like a predator on prey. And she did.

But she pounced on him with her lips and soon the world was lost to him and the only presence he acknowledged was his beautiful best friends and her perfect lips.

…

They had travelled by apparition to an alleyway near the Leaky Cauldron, their heads covered by caps as they tried to blend into the crowd as much as they could. They wore casual clothing of course, as standing out was something they were against right now, and Harry thought that Hermione looked rather cute and adorable in her blue jeans, his eleven year old's white t-shirt, expanded a bit to fit her and a blue cap that brought out her cheeks.

The pout of her cheeks a benefit of their magical growth apparently, was very seductive in his opinion and many times this morning she had managed to convince them to relive their first snog – not that he needed much persuasion in the first place.

Her lips were simply magnetic to him and he didn't mind it – he didn't mind it at all.

People paid them no mind both magical and muggle as they walked past the alleys and through the Leaky Cauldron, and it wasn't long before they had arrived at Gringotts. Walking though they had gained nods and little bows, Harry knew that the Goblins could see that he was important because of the family magic surrounding him, he had read about it before, and the magic the goblins had, was fascinating and more than a little underrated.

Hermione showed little hesitation when they were at the teller; while he knew the goblins could be scary he also knew that Hermione had dealt with them before when she and her parents had come to Diagon Alley to for shopping of her school supplies.

"We have an appointment with Barlock, my Accounts Manager." He stated firmly. The goblin raised an eyebrow and raised his chin.

"Yes, it says here that you are indeed, expected. If you will follow me…" The couple nodded and soon they were standing in front of a dark oak door, with a golden plate pasted onto it that said: Barlock, Accounts Manager.

"He should be expecting you all, so it wouldn't be a surprise for him if you enter. Just ensure you knock." The goblin said before he strutted arrogantly and Harry was sure that if the goblin had done something or the other wrong, he would have lost his temper. Not only did he hate arrogant folks, but he hated it when they said strutted around, acting as though they owned the place.

He cooled his temper, with Hermione's magic of course, as the witch beside him had noticed his rising anger and had shared her calming magic with him through their bond. He sent her a smile and took a deep breath before he knocked on the door, grasping Hermione's hand a little tighter because of the nervousness running through his veins. They both knew that today was a big day for both of them, not only do they find out more about their bond hopefully, but Harry would claim the titles of houses, becoming the youngest Lord in the magical world, and Hermione would be finding out her ancestor, getting the same inheritance check he had received upon his arrival at Gringotts on his first visit.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter," Barlock said adjusting his glasses as he opened the door further to allow them to enter. Both blushing teenagers, who were flattered to be called by their titles as husband and wife, greeted the goblin Accounts Manager accordingly, and then soon, they were in chairs as the Accounts Manager looked at them fondly, his thoughts unknown to them, but they could tell that they were friendly.

Harry spoke up and it triggered everything else that happened. He provided his blood and he and Hermione had to sign some parchments, reading everything closely and soon Harry helped his wand in his hand as he prepared to say what Barlock would tell him to say.

He did, however, notice that Hermione's 'Hermione Potter' signature was quite pretty, as though… it had been practiced many times before. Barlock started speaking and he repeated after the goblin. The Accounts Manager had explained that it wouldn't take too long, and Harry was sure that was an understatement, for each second seemed faster than the last. He had to admit that everything was just going really fast right now.

Family magic swarmed him and he balanced himself on the wall with his hand for the sheer power of the combined family magic and his own and Hermione's was more than overwhelming. Hermione too, he noticed, was in a position similar to his as she balanced herself on his shoulder.

"That seems to be it," Barlock nodded, "Your main title will be Lord Potter, the title you will be addressed as. Your wife will be known as Lady Potter. Congratulations Lord Potter."

Harry nodded as he caught his breath quickly, he was quite fortunate that he exercise and knew what being breathless felt like, so knew how to handle it. As he rubbed at Hermione's back and as several rings appeared on both of their hands, he thanked the Accounts Manager. "And that's Harry and Hermione to you, Barlock," he told the goblin with a smile.

"Of course, Harry." Replied the Accounts Manager with a smile. The lad really was like his parents and grandparents, who Barlock had met on few occasions. That the Lady he was married to was basically a spitting image of Lily's soul, only told Barlock how wonderful life could turn out.

It was a bit unfortunate that the couple had to leave for Hermione's scheduled appointment with the Accounts Manager for the house of the person – her ancestor – who had requested an inheritance check, just as Harry's father had. They did, however, know that they would return to the Potters, and thanks to Harry's declaration, the Gryffindors and every other houses' Accounts Manager when Hermione's inheritance check was finished, for the place where they would be staying until they left for Hogwarts was still a mystery to them.

The goblin was called Razortooth, big and brisk he was and his teeth seemed much sharper than Barlock's. Hermione's Account Manager seemed to be very young, and as he stuttered when they walked in, Harry could guess he was very inexperienced. He didn't say anything though, even though Hermione must have heard his stray thought, for he always thought that starting out in a company would be very stressful, especially when some of your first clients were very powerful.

He wondered briefly how they chose the Accounts Manager in the first place. If the goblin here was new, that meant someone had given him the position sometime very close.

Or maybe, Hermione reasoned inside of his head, he's just a successor.

He gripped her hand tightly in recognition of her suggestion, which could be a possibility yes. Trust Hermione to be the one who lighted up the room for him.

"Lady Potter, welcome," said the goblin, Razortooth with a nervous grin, "Welcome to you too, Lord Potter." The couple nodded attentively before the goblin spoke once more, "Since until now, as I understand it, Lady Potter had little knowledge of the magical world because of the thought fact that you are a muggleborn, you must be wondering who the ancestor is that requested your inheritance check." They nodded and the goblin continued as he looked through his files.

"Your ancestor is one from a very prestigious magical Pureblood family that was thought, until Gringotts contacted you recently because of the soul bond, extinct from the magical world. We were of course, very confused when the last known remaining member of your family requested an inheritance check for her husband's heir or heiress, for the Lady in question was known to be… well the only surviving member of the family. After some studying, we were able to understand that the woman we speak about, Maranda Dagworth-Granger had conceived a child just the day before her husband had passed away and had run away from the Wizarding World. Because of how weak Maranda Dagworth-Granger was, after the loss of her husband's magic because they shared a bond similar to yours, her child, had been born a squib. Fast forward a few years, through your squib father and it seems that the magic of House Dagworth-Granger has sprouted again."

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed, while Harry's rose slightly. He had his speculations of course, and it was apparent that one of them was actually true. For, as he had gotten older and had more control of his magic, he was able to understand it and others more. Thanks to their bond, a bond they didn't know they had so much back then, he was able to understand hers more than any random wizard he had passed on the street. He could tell that her magic wasn't new, that it wasn't young. He could tell that the magic that roamed her veins was somewhat, ancient and experienced, just as his own magic, that had been passed down from generation to generation and to him.

"So that means, that my Great Grand Aunt Maranda is magical? She is the one who requested for me to have this inheritance check?" Hermione questioned.

"She fulfilled one of her husband's last wishes," the goblin answered, "my own ancestor, who was the Accounts Manager for the House of Dagworth Granger before me, explained that Lord Dagworth Granger knew that his House had more potential and deeper history than they had first thought; but he wanted to wait for the right time to find out. It seems that now the time is right."

Hermione nodded, understanding the situation more. She wasn't a Muggleborn as she thought she was, and now she was going to find out, just like Harry had, the houses that she would have to claim the titles of. Razortooth explained to them that she would be officially known as Lady Potter, for she was married to Lord Potter, but her titles would still remain under her name, just not publicly. He further explained that their first child – to which they both blushed at – would be given all the titles they had.

Hermione wasn't ready to think about that. Of course, she always had the dream or two about her and Harry in the future, but what really she didn't want to think about, was the feeling their child would experience when he or she came to know the amount of responsibility that would be put on their shoulders.

She looked over to Harry, even when he was smaller than he was now, he had already had a burden on his shoulders, and now, he also carried the weight of the legacy of the houses he now was the Lord of. He was thirteen but his eyes showed so much more age than that, and she was thankful that he wasn't letting the pressure and fatigue overwhelm him.

So much would be expected of him when the word got out. Harry had explained a bit about his titles and the responsibilities he would receive and she was amazed by the amount of it all. Wizengamot, prestigious events, making decisions for their house. They would have to decide what they would do next after they spoke with Barlock about it. She didn't want Harry to start going to Wizengamot meetings at this age, even if there was a possibility for it to be inevitable.

Razortooth's cough brought her out of her musings and soon she had done well in providing everything she had to for the inheritance check. She and Harry glanced at each other as she held the parchment in her hand, and he sent her an encouraging smile before they both unfolded the parchment and read about what she had just inherited.

…

"I hope that everything has gone well," Barlock said as they once more entered his office. The couple, who were both still a bit overwhelmed and giggly after they read about everything Hermione had inherited nodded as they helped themselves into the seats they had just occupied about an hour ago.

"Perfect actually," Harry nodded.

"I'm happy to hear," remarked Barlock, "there were a few instances where our clients were quite miffed about what houses they had received, but I hadn't expected that from wonderful individuals like yourself."

"Thank you, Barlock," Hermione smiled as she squeezed Harry's hands, their rings invisible because of the intent of her magic

"You are most welcome, Hermione. I'm not but an old goblin uttering the truth. Now, what can I do for the two of you – what specifically?"

Harry moistened his lips as a little flush of anxiety poured over him. "House hunting, shall I say?" He asked. "We're looking for somewhere to stay until Hogwarts. For returning to our previous residences can prove to be dangerous for us."

The goblin didn't question them, but he did raise his eyebrow a little as he brought out a large file from under his table, where Harry was sure, had been enchanted with Extension Charms that was similar to the ones placed on his magical trunk. "My table drawers and office cupboards were just about packed to the rim with files because of the position you awarded with me, Harry – I still can't express my gratitude enough for that." The goblin chuckled. Harry was sure that he was speaking the truth, for being the Accounts Manager for so many houses was ought to be quite difficult and must have given Barlock documents that must have dated back to thousands of years ago.

Even though most of the said documents, he was sure, were in his properties on in his vault, Harry felt a prickle of guilt of the work he had given the goblin. The trust his father had placed in the man, and the trust he had suddenly gotten after meeting the man and knowing his intentions because of reading his magic, had influenced greatly his and Hermione's decision to make him the Accounts Manager for all of his houses. But the goblin didn't seem to mind, in fact, Harry was sure he had seen tears in Barlock's eyes when he told the goblin of his plan.

It seems that the goblin was very ecstatic about having more work to do, he was in some ways, similar to Hermione.

"Now, this file here is a combined list of all the properties that you own." Barlock explained, "Each individual page in here is about one of the houses that you own."

"But – but it's so thick!" Hermione gasped and Harry had to agree. The file was very large, and he could see hundreds of individual pages inside of it. Each of them, it was apparent, was about one house alone, which meant they had hundreds of options of properties to choose from.

…

She was about to leave them, she was about to run away with a boy who wasn't even really a boy, for he had proven time and time again that 'boy' wasn't fit enough to call a mature person like he was, and Hermione knew that she had to say something, anything at all, to them, explaining that she loved them, and she was following her heart for they would stop her otherwise because she knew that they would oppose and take this away from her, but Hermione couldn't bring herself to say anything at all.

She loved them so much, but they wouldn't agree with what she was about to do. She loved Harry but her father would take him away from her. She still had the hope that she could tell her mother about this, and her mother could join them because of the way her father was behaving, but she didn't want to risk it.

Telling her parents about this, about magic, independence, soul bonds, marriage, Ancient and Noble Houses, magical growth would freak them out. They would be scared of her, they would do everything in their power to get her and keep her away from it. So she couldn't let them.

She assured Harry that she knew what she was doing and even though she could tell he wasn't fully on board with the idea of her running away from her parents, she could tell that he had complied with her wishes. Harry, she knew, was incredibly guilty, but she reassured him that it wasn't his fault, and she would never regret the things they had gone through and that they were married, she would never regret loving him. He had brightened up and his brightness had brightened her up.

So she wrote a letter, detailing everything that had happened and that they should not come looking for them because they were now adults in the magical world and could do magic with their wands to prevent them from finding them. She wrote that she loved Harry, and she had to stay by his side, for dark times laid ahead, times she and Harry knew about, even though they couldn't tell what exactly. She had placed it on their table and as the sun began to set, she and Harry smiled lovingly to each other, before they apparated away, leaving enchantments on the house that would protect her parents.


	8. Chapter VIII

Chapter VIII

He held onto her tightly and she smiled in her sleep as he buried his head into her chestnut hair and sighed in pleasurable contentment. Although they were in their own bedroom, and that they had entered the house a few hours ago, deciding to explore the day after because they were tired, he could hardly fall asleep, for there was still exhilaration and excitement running through his veins.

If he were to open his eyes, and he couldn't right now because he was in a lovely sense of content that he didn't want to throw away, he would have been met immediately, through the curtains and the transparent window, by trees. Lots of it.

He had read about the Forest of Dean, and he knew Hermione had visited said forest such a long time ago when she and her family had went camping, and had learned so much more from Hermione's retelling of her trip, but seeing it person and experiencing this weird glow of peace and humbleness that surrounded the forest, was something different, something he couldn't quite explain.

But he knew that it was perfect nevertheless, he knew that despite the creatures that must be lurking outside their property, they would be safe and they would be happy.

One of the things they had done before finding a random room and falling asleep in the same clothing they had gone out with – for they were simply too tired to change – was meeting the house-elves, who explained to them – after they said their excited hellos and after Hermione asked if they were treating themselves well – that there were privileged to be the elves who had placed enchantments around Potter Manor, to prevent the dangers of dark magic and the wildness that surrounded them.

Wildness, he knew, was not something either of them had really encountered, as in terms of nature. While had spoken to snakes before and had looked after a few stray animals here and there, he couldn't say that he had encountered wildlife that could prove to be a dangerous threat.

When Hermione and her parents had gone camping they had gone only a bit deep into the forest, because they were certain restrictions they had to follow, because of the dangers and because of endangered wildlife.

He sighed into her shoulder as he finally loosened his grip around her waist to its previous hold, they were in their own house now. Their own house. It was a wooden mansion on top of a hill. Large protective white walls, engraved with beautiful carvings of fierce animals bordered the house, and the large golden gate was the only entrance or exit they had found so far.

It was the entrance they had walked through and was met by excited houseleves who profusely expressed their happiness to see their master and mistress. The pathway was layered with beautiful stone and divided the garden of gorgeous flowers into two and led them to the fountain that was in front of the manor.

Two stories high the house was, and it was painted a prestigious white. Upon observing the house in the morning, they would find that the house was in a T shape. They had chosen the large master bedroom at the end of the T, where they could look out to wine gardens and a pool they were willing to try. Both of them had fallen asleep looking at the moon in the night sky, Hermione's back pressed against Harry's chest as they snuggled lovingly with each other, their magic dancing with delight and content.

...

The house was humungous and each of them took turns exploring on their own as their spouse bathed and freshened up for the day ahead of them, for they were both a bit embarrassed at the prospect of bathing together. While they had spoken about the soul bond with Barlock yesterday before they left and knew that skin contact and constant contact with each other was needed for the further development of their bond, they were still a bit young. Maybe another day?

Besides they hadn't exactly made the decision to bathe alone, for Harry had been bathing when Hermione had woken up and decided to explore a little, then switching when they returned. How they were going to carry on was yet to be discussed.

It was one of the things that would be discussed today, but first, they had something more important to speak about.

After breakfast, which was served to them at a large table in the dining room, they found that the parlour would be a wonderful place to do their discussions. It was located at the front of the house on the second story. It was more of a study or library if Harry had to tell the truth, for there were books and bookshelves that surrounded the comfortable recliners, sofas, and there was also a desk, all of the furniture was atop a very comfy, fluffy mat that had their bare feet feeling delighted.

However, a lot of the bookshelves stopped at a certain height, somewhere around Harry's waist, because if it was any higher it would obscure their beautiful view of the woodlands and their property through the windows that they opened to allow the cool breeze in, to freshen the air in the house and themselves.

They grinned at each other because both knew that the cosiness was something the other really fancied having. They shared a sweet kiss, but soon Harry had pulled the recliners back and moved the table to a safe distance away, laying on his back as Hermione rested her head on his chest as she too relaxed.

They had much to learn. They spent the next hours reading books they had brought from the Potter library a library that held an abundance of books, educating themselves about the Potters and their history. Harry and Hermione learned about their responsibilities as Lord and Lady of houses and they were so caught up with their reading that they didn't notice when a portrait they had thought undrawn and empty suddenly held the beaming figures of a man and woman.

"Dear me, when I felt the Potter family magic ignite within the Manor, I was so very excited. I didn't know that James and Lily's child would be married at this age, more so soul bonded." Said the woman. She wore an elegant red dress robe. Her wrinkly skin and dimpled-filled smile were the only features of the woman that indicated to the two startled teenagers that she was old, for her eyes were alight with the flame of excitement that wasn't expected for a woman of her age.

Her husband barked a laugh beside her, well at least the teens thought the two individuals were married just as they were. Unlike his robe-dressed wife, the man wore armour. Chest plate, epaulette, everything he wore made the elder man look as though he was ready for war, he even wore a cape at the back of his neck.

"True that is, dear Celia," the man replied, "But trust the Potter men in the family to get what they want when they want when it comes to the opposite sex." He remarked with a bark of laughter.

"Excuse me?" Said Hermione, the blush on her cheeks ever since the mention of her and Harry's marriage still there as she looked at the adults in the portrait. While she had read about them once before, magical portraits that is, she didn't know that the people inside of the portraits could move in and out of their frame, and both her and Harry had thought this particular portrait to be vacant of a soul. "But who are you?"

The couple smiled fondly at them, "Just like Lily," remarked the woman, "always the curious one."

"We are," the man began but paused abruptly, only to start just as quickly, "what you say, your in-laws." He explained.

"In-laws?" Questioned Harry as he walked up to stand next to his best friend, "We're related then? You mentioned something about my parents?"

"Well, of course, we know your parents, dear Harry," answered the woman – Celia, Harry reminded himself as he remembered what the man beside her had called her – politely, clasping her hands in front of her, "As for your next question; yes, we are indeed related."

"We are your great grandparents you see," said the man, "Let us introduce ourselves, my name is Charlus Potter, and the beautiful lady you see beside me is my soul mate and wonderfully wedded wife, Celia Potter."

"My great grandparents?" Harry said questioningly in disbelief. Hermione grasped his hand, whenever Harry encountered something concerning his parents or the rest of his family, he had always been emotional. An ever since he had found that picture of his mother in the attic of his Uncle's house when cleaning the attic and had broken down, she had vowed to be there for him, to support him.

"Aye," the man replied in an excited whisper, "you can call us… what should he call us, dear?"

"Great grandfather and great grandmother, it's tradition, for both of you." She said to the children before she quirked an eyebrow at her husband, "It's such a shame you forgot."

The man folded his arms stubbornly as he raised his chin that carried a deep stubble, "It's not my fault I've been in a portrait for decades, Celia," he huffed haughtily, but his wife just rolled her eyes, and soon the man was laughing.

… 

She tugged at her collar as she huffed at the boy in the bed beside her, who was already dressed and had been rolling his eyes for the past few minutes every time she had changed something about her appearance. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't used to her younger self's appearance as much as she was before because of the amount of time she had spent in her older self's body.

But Harry's words of encouragement, telling her she looked extremely pretty and beautiful, and she could tell his comments were genuine because of their bond, was helping her a great deal to not feel insecure about herself.

She glanced to the boy beside her as he laid on their bed in the Manor, his head resting on his arm even though the comfortable pillow beneath him always provided them with a great headrest. He was twirling his wand in his other hand, his eyes looking so wary that Hermione stopped brushing her hair to stand up from her vanity and to sit next to him on the bed, looking at him with a concerned expression.

"Sweetie?" She questioned, "What's wrong?"

He looked at her as a smile appeared on his lips, her concern for him had never failed to bring a smile on his face and he loved every minute of it. He knew lying to her was pointless, for they basically shared thoughts and since she was so considerate in not divulging into his mind to seek out the answer herself and instead personally asking him, he felt that he should tell her anyway. Besides, she had called him Sweetie, and Merlin, how much he loved her when she called him those cute nicknames. It made him feel incredibly cherished and loved.

"Tired," he mumbled, "And scared."

She was too, and it was only the glamour charms that were hiding the circles beneath both of their eyes. They had known that things would be difficult, that there were dark times ahead of them, but they hadn't expected this much sacrifice and pain.

Harry had it worse than her with Philip on his case every day during the summer, not once had the ex-auror not injured her husband before their training was finished and before her love had returned home to her.

She seriously had the mind to hex the man himself, ex-auror or not she would have done seriously dangerous things to him for the bruises he had put on her Harry. But it was all worth it, wasn't it? While Hermione knew that preparing themselves was overly encouraged, she was sure that the series of events they were preparing themselves for wasn't going to approach as fast as Philip and their Great Grandparents thought it would.

But their judgment had overruled their own fancies and had influenced everything they had done concerning the preparation for Voldemort and for Dumbledore.

One of the persons they had been preparing ruthlessly for, was Albus Dumbledore, the man they, along with so many other students, were going to meet today. Hermione still couldn't believe that the man thought to be the most powerful wizard in the world, had broken into her home in the dark of night and had attempted to wipe her memories.

She had been livid. But even a strong adjective as livid was not competent enough to describe the anger Harry had been emitting before she had calmed him down. She could swear that her hugs and continuous kissing, the fact that they cooled off together in the shower, was the only reason that Harry hadn't declared war against the House of Dumbledore. She was privileged like that, for not only was she his wife, soul mate, and the girl he was in love with, but she was his best friend ever since they were six and knew him inside and out, just like he knew her too.

She cupped his cheek lovingly as she looked deeply into his vivid green eyes, so beautiful without his glasses. Glasses that would have to be placed on soon, for appearances and plans sake. It was a bit weird, seeing him in his eleven year old self, but she would get used to it again. She had to.

She pressed her lips softly to his, relishing the fact that his lips had curled into a smile and that his magic had spiked in happiness before she drew back and rested her head in the crook of his shoulder. "I know, Harry, I know."

She herself had been busy, only joining Philip's lessons when it was required, but spending most of her time in the libraries of the different properties they visited. Potter Palace had been the first kingdom they had visited, and both were sure that if it wasn't for great grandfather and great grandmother, they wouldn't have known half of the things they knew right now.

They had experienced a lot in the last month leading up to the all awaited day where they would leave for Hogwarts. But none was like their first visit to Potter Palace.

… 

He tugged nervously at the collar of his robe as he looked at himself in the mirror in front of him that was on the other side of the carriage from where he sat. He could almost hear Hermione smiling and rolling her eyes as he tried to look as best as he could, for today was a big day, a day he was sure that he wasn't ready for.

Great Grandfather and Grandmother had told them repeatedly that this was what they had to do and judging from how much they had heard it from the elder, dead Potters, this responsibility was more than important. It was one of the most important things he had to do as the Lord of a kingdom.

The carriage had come to pick them up, flying believe or not, by creatures that at first, only he could see. But because of their bonds and because Hermione had gone through all of his memories as he had with hers and had therefore seen the death of his parents, she too was able to see it. He remembered this old cartoon he had been able to glance at when he was younger and had been cleaning the house while the Dursleys watched the telly and ate their dinner.

In the cartoon, there was a demon that had arrived in the night on a carriage that had been pulled by horses similar to the one he had been looking at and had asked a girl he was in love with to marry him.

The point was that the horse that was pulling the carriage was skeletal and it was a species of magical creature that he had read about in the Magical Book of Creatures. A creature that was magical and could only be seen by the individuals who have seen death.

It was a bit unsettling yes, for every time he glanced at the horse, he was reminded of the fact that he could only see the horse because he had seen his parents being murdered and that obviously had reminded him of his parents' murder.

Hermione had been understanding and even now, hours after they had landed in an enchanted place they knew not of being carried by a different carriage now, she still held his hand tightly in hers as her thumb roamed nicely and comfortingly over his hand, providing him with great warmth and love.

He knew that she too was nervous, for she had never imagined that she would be doing something like this, but she had kept herself composed for most of the rides, only looking at the mirror whenever her delicately dressed hair became a bit ruffled in the wind, or to fix her lipstick whenever they just couldn't resist the others' lips.

He figured that she felt that she had to be composed for him, for he was losing his mind in nervousness. While she was sitting there with her pretty dress, he had been shuffling around and adjusting everything from his shoes to his collar to make himself look presentable for the people that would have so many expectations for him.

Hermione did indeed look beautiful, she looked like a princess really, even though she was the queen of the kingdom they were steadily approaching. She wore a white sleeveless dress that ended before her knees, looking very elegant as it matched her short white heels and white evening gloves she wore while her hair had been tied up into a wonderfully wrapped bun that let strands fall to the side of her face. The houseleves, who Hermione had taken a fancy to quite obviously, had helped her to get ready, and she looked extremely pretty – beautiful really, gorgeous even and it was the reason he couldn't keep his lips off hers.

She hadn't seemed to mind though, for her hands had travelled over his chest and abs as they enjoyed their time alone – relished it, for they wouldn't have much time to be alone for the coming hours.

The carriage came to a sudden halt and Harry's hand immediately went to Hermione's waist as he held her and stopped her from falling face forward into the front of the carriage. He'd have to speak with the horseman about that later.

Blush coated their cheeks as trumpets – actual trumpets! - began to blow into the air, creating music that usually accompanied the Queen of England at the most prestigious of events, like when she simply entered her own home.

They were definitely embarrassed as they walked, Hermione's hands hooked around his as they smiled encouragingly to the other. They walked into the town's square eventually guards everywhere bowing and the people suddenly falling suit while the ones who were beside them, their personal escort who had already bowed when they had met at the entrance simply standing more stiffly.

Harry held himself back from chuckling incredulously as they walked through the perfectly aligned gap in the middle of the people who were still bowing, a gap that held a red and gold carpet.

There were two thrones at the end of the town's square, where the more important members of the kingdom stood. Harry knew that this usually would have been done in the castle, for that was what Great Grandfather and Grandmother had told them, but they figured that it would be too overwhelming an experience for them and had asked for it to be held in the Town's Square.

They sat on the thrones and Harry frowned as he noticed that his was a bit more elegant and larger than Hermione's because he was the Lord. He'd have to change that at a later date, for now, he had something else to take care of.

He willed his voice not to crack as he remembered what Great Grandfather had told him what to speak and how to speak it. "Rise." He said plainly and everyone hastily, but in tune, stood as one.

They had said their introductions formally and Harry told them as much as was allowed to and soon they had bowed again as their magic seeped from them and was shared to their Lord and by extension, his Lady. Harry and Hermione knew it would take some time before they got used to this.

… 

It was a Kingdom really, the Palace was just an attributing factor to it all, a place where the Lord and his family would reside. The palace itself was built on a hill, but at the bottom of the hill, there were dozens and dozens, some would even say hundreds, of houses and settlements.

Each person down in the kingdom had pledge alliance that day, the same day they had arrived. They had bowed to their one knees when they realised that she and Harry had been the ones who had called, anonymously, of course, an important meeting in the Town's Square.

She and Harry had been against it at first of course, but they had been explained to that there was no way around it. That this was the only way that they knew to tell their Lord and Lady that they were always going to be loyal, the only way they knew to pledge their loyalty was by giving those bits of their own magic.

This had continued every palace they went to. Great Grandfather and Grandmother had explained thoroughly that because they were the new Lord and Lady of the houses, they had to visit each of the kingdoms they ruled to show that they were the new rulers, the son – the heir – of the last Lord, Lord James Fleamont Potter and last Lady, Lady Lily Jean Potter, Lord Harry James Potter and his Lady, Hermione Jean Potter.

Each time they went to a different kingdom, they were given so much magical power because of the kingdom's people who had willingly pledged their loyalty and had provided them with their magic, and each time they had a different experience, some more enlightening than the others, while some were very dramatic and eventful – not to mention, stressful.

Hermione sighed contently as Harry's hand roamed her back, delicately rubbing out the stress on her muscles with his talented hands, he was the best husband, perfect really, in her perspective and opinion at least. Both of them had gotten used to their titles by now, they both knew with great pleasure that they were married and they were comfortable with it.

Ever since the incident where they used Harry's suggestion to find out who was the individual to try and hurt her and had caused their bond to be pushed forward, they had showered together, knew the other more than they had before, at least, physically.

They hadn't been hormonal and had done anything naughty, even though they would giggle and blush and explore, but the point was that they were comfortable with each other. Notably, though, there was definitely more skin contact whenever they were out and about or simply studying or in bed, for it was a way in which their bond would be strengthened. They had allowed the other the privilege to quench their curiosity but they both reminded themselves that their bodies had only just developed into fourteen years olds. Yes, fourteen year olds, for their bond had struck again.

They were both very interested in it, that they were growing faster than they ever could have imagined, but they decided not to trouble anything concerning their bond for now, for their bond was still trying to settle. Harry had the assumption that each time they visited a kingdom and gained a large amount of magic from their people, their magic and therefore bond would have to adapt to it all over again.

Hermione held back a moan of delight as Harry's hands did his magic on her back, but even here, in as much contentment as she was, she knew more than she wanted herself to know, that they couldn't stay here forever.

She sighed and pushed herself up on her arms, still not believing that she was now able to do a push up, even though she was in her younger self's body and she pecked Harry on the lips softly, not able to resist the rising sense of temptation whenever she saw them.

"We have to go," she whispered.

"We would have already left, dear, if you could've kept your hands off me," he smirked as suddenly grabbed her waist switching their positions as she squealed. Her hair, the same hair she had been trying so hard to make perfect for her first day at Hogwarts and for the Sorting Ceremony, sprawled out behind her as she rolled her eyes, a small smirk playing on her lips as she tried hard, but obviously failed, to pretend to be angry with him.

"It's me who's not keeping my hands to myself?" She asked amusedly as he started to pepper her face with soft kisses, leaving each part of skin his lips had touched electrified and relaxed. His magic danced with hers and she knew he was more amused than she was. She loved their friendly little banters, she loved that they were so comfortable with each other, despite the way and pace things had been moving, and that they could tease the hell out of each other. "Harry, let's go, love."

"Alright, alright," he mumbled as he rolled off her and stood abruptly. "What are you waiting for, love, let's go." He said enthusiastically as she rolled her eyes grabbing onto his hand as he pulled her out of their bedroom.

… 

They didn't want to arrive in style, for it felt so inappropriate in their opinion. The houseleves had suggested that they should get there by the Potter family elegant cars that his godfather Sirius had persuaded his father to buy and had been kept under disillusionment charms in a secret room of the house, but they had declined.

The reason they had declined was more than obvious if you had travelled with them for the last month, from kingdom to kingdom. Because the last month they had travelled in a horse carriage that looked like it was meant for the Royal Family. And even though Harry didn't want to admit it fully, he learned that he and Hermione were basically the royal family of Magical Britain.

Great grandfather and grandmother's confirmation that even if he was just a Potter and not the heads of the Gryffindor, Prevell, and other wealthy and influential and noble families like that, he would have still been treated like royalty. It was something that came with being the son of the former Lord and Lady of House Potter it seemed and when you put it like that, he didn't mind, for he would do anything his parents wanted him to do, be anything his parents wanted him to be.

So, they had called a taxi. And soon they were holding hands as they walked into King's Cross Station and towards the barrier that prevented Muggles from entering Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Their breathing stilled as they spotted a group of redheaded people they had heard and been warned so much of.

After ever since speaking to Barlock a few days after their first appointment where Harry had claimed his title as Lord of his houses and Hermione had her inheritance check, they had learned that the man they hated with so much passion, Albus Dumbledore, had been preparing to set up a betrothal contract between Harry and a young girl who was apparently smitten with him, most likely his fame, named Ginny Weasley.

Unfortunately for Albus Dumbledore and fortunately for them, the headmaster of the school they were now about to reluctantly attend, needed to set up the betrothal contract through the Weasley's Account Manager and the Potter's Accounts Manager, and one of them happened to be loyal to Harry.

The goblin they knew as the Account Manager of their houses and their personal friend, had told calmly to the man, from what they gathered from Barlock's memory of the events, that he wasn't the guardian of Harry Potter; that someone else was – even though that was a lie, for Harry was independent – and that as a person who had been specifically left out of the Potters will, he had no authority in making this decision.

They knew from the memory that Albus Dumbledore had not been happy and after Barlock had walked away, ignoring his claims that he was indeed the guardian of Harry Potter and that he would have Barlock's job for this, the headmaster of Hogwarts had walked out of the back, fatally upset.

Harry and Hermione had laughed quietly to themselves when they had exited the pensive, for ever since they had found out that the man was the one who had tried to hurt Hermione, they had wanted some sort of revenge on him and even though this was just a little bit of what they wanted to happen – to do – to the old man, it was still amusing.

They purposely ignored the family with red hair who was looking around, their magic acting on its own to make themselves unnoticeable to that particular family alone. It was more than obvious that the group of redheads was looking for him.

The Hogwarts Express, they understood more when they excitedly walked through the magical wall that led them into Platform Nine and Three Quarters was a very beautiful train. Scarlet red it was and it glowed brightly in the sun's rays as smoke flowed out from the top of the locomotive.

He grinned at Hermione and the girl he was in love with smiled back at him her eyes alight with excitement. Despite the dangers of the Weasleys and Dumbledore being in the castle, it had been both their dreams to attend a magical school ever since they had learned they could, and they weren't going to give it up.

They tried not to garner any attention as they entered the train. They knew anyway that they wouldn't have gained much because they were first years, but they weren't going to take chances. They were still a bit… traumatised after the last time word had gotten out about them...

… 

There were moments in his life, where he knew that something was going to happen. The same day he had met Hermione and had saved her from the girls who were tormenting her, he had awoken in the morning feeling light and content, having the feeling that something wonderfully surprising and awesome was going to happen.

The day he and Hermione had spent together for the first time, in the library in their school after they had met each other in the park when he had saved her, he had felt exhilaration and excitement. And he knew Hermione had felt the same thing, for she had confirmed it herself and he had experienced her memories and knew it was true.

Hermione herself knew the feeling of foreboding. And even though it had been in a bad way, she had experienced it nevertheless. And as they sat there in the carriage as the seemingly invisible horses pulled them faster through the night, they knew that they were experiencing it all over again.

He had his speculations about how they had this feeling, and the one that was most notable was that they knew of the magic that surrounded them because of how in tune they were with their magic. So they were able to know if the magic around them was dark - had dark intentions.

He could feel the apprehension and anxiousness that was rolling off the guards on their horses beside and in front and behind them and knew that they too, were somewhat knowledgeable that this may not be the safest carriage ride that they had taken so far.

They had been on a schedule, for they wanted to visit every kingdom of theirs that they could before they headed off to Hogwarts. So even though it was in the middle of the night and rain was heavily pouring above them, rattling on the top of the carriage in an oddly repetitive manner.

He wrapped his hands tighter around Hermione's waist as she buried herself deeper into his chest, seeking comfort for they both felt an overwhelming sense of uneasiness and fright. He had to protect her if something were to happen, doing anything else was unreasonable and simply unthinkable. He couldn't imagine a world without her, so he would ensure that there wasn't one.

Hermione had soon fallen asleep, her mouth slightly agape and she looked extremely adorable in Harry's perspective sleeping in elegant clothing that similar to the one she had worn to Potter palace only this time, in periwinkle blue.

As he held her in his arms and as they travelled closer to the palace of the Gryffindors, he started to feel better, less unease, for soon they would be in the safety of their castle. Word had obviously spread in the kingdoms that there was a new Lord and Lady of houses that were, in a very long time, left without them, and there was always the chance that they could get ambushed by people who wanted his wealth and so on.

It turns out that this was exactly the case.

The carriage pulled to a stop and he instantly was alert, the sleepiness that had been starting to overcome him immediately waning as he looked outside of the window and towards the guards that were looking around attentively. He rested Hermione's head on the seat as he got up and opened the door, his eyes immediately meeting the one of the main guard whose name was Philip Dreylvin.

The man's family had been guarding the Potters for generations and generations and the title of Chief Guard had been awarded to him when his father passed away as it was tradition now. He was a fit man in his late forties, his face wrinkled with the years of work under the Potter Guards.

"My lord, something… is off. We trust you must be aware." He said.

"I've had an inkling," he replied as confidentially as he could. He had been preparing since he was young for a moment like this, where he'd have to protect Hermione and himself, but he was still a young boy, well he was technically thirteen at the moment, but he was young nevertheless and he was inexperienced when it came to duels. He closed his eyes as he brought up a barrier around them, the eyes around them widening at his magical strength.

He figured that now they had stopped, he didn't need to try to reach out to see the other's magic while moving. "Someone is indeed near," he announced, "more than one of them. They don't have good intentions."

Philip's eyes narrowed as he turned to squint into the darkness that surrounded them. They were in fields, most of them his own, where there was only plain land and a few scattered trees. "There camouflaging with magic and mundane methods," he remarked.

"Disillusionment charms," Harry provided.

Philip nodded, "Notice-me-not, invisibility cloaks, clothing that matches the ones the muggle defense force wears – they've been planning this."

Harry nodded and then he glanced at his love laying on the seat. "Keep moving forward, I'll try to keep up the dome."

… 

He rested their bags on the top of the compartment where there was a rack exactly for that. While they could simply shrink their luggage and keep it in their pockets, they didn't for appearance's sake. If some cheeky, inconsiderate bugger came around and asked where their luggage was, they'd have an answer for him. Besides, they didn't want everything that they did to be based on magic, there were many things – many muggle things that they enjoyed doing and could be more enjoyable without magic.

Hermione smiled at him as the train started to move and he smiled back as he rested his hand on her thigh. Her lovely little smiles and their shared touches were something that never failed to put him in high spirits. They chatted for a while as the train started to pick up speed and headed past the outskirts of London before they picked up their school books and started to revise.

While they knew everything in the same books from cover to cover including the entire year's curriculum and most of next year's, reading was something that they would never oppose, and besides, they just wanted to make sure they knew everything. Being on top of their classes was something that both of them wanted to happen desperately, for it was both of their dreams since they could remember.

Harry knew more than anyone else that Hermione would be on top of the class, and he would either accompany her at the top spot or be lower – even though Hermione had modestly insisted he'd be higher than her.

Their brilliance brought up a different topic, which house they would be in. Brilliant minds usually went to the house of the Raven, Ravenclaw, so there was a high chance that they would be in there, and they weren't being presumptuous or anything. Gryffindor, Harry knew, was somewhere everyone would be expecting him to be, for not only were Potters generally in Gryffindor, with a few in Ravenclaw but nothing else, both of his parents had also been selected by the ancient sorting hat to be in the house of lions.

Hermione's hand caressed his as she smiled supportively understanding his inner battle of expectations. Their lovely moment, however, was ruined when their compartment door, which Harry was sure he now regretted not warding when he saw who it was, was roughly opened by a boy with freckles and red hair.

Whether or not Ronald Billius Weasley was aware of the naughty, illegal business Albus Dumbledore and his mother were getting up to, Harry was already weary of the youngest male of the Weasley family. He wasn't about to take any chances, for he was never going to put Hermione's life at risk, but he and Hermione hid their real expressions behind ones that Great Grandmother had thought them. She had thought them, the pensive stare. It was apparent that her dear husband had been the recipient of the said stare for when she had announced she would be teaching them this for an incident such as they were in right now, her husband had quietly snuck away in the literal and proverbial background.

It was the same stare that they gave the intruder of the compartment that they had deemed their own upon stumbling on it. The redhead, it seemed was less concerned in the looks he had been given and more concerned about asking the question he seemed so desperate to ask before he even thought of greeting them.

"Have any of you seen Harry Potter?" He asked as he looked distractingly back out of the compartment to look at both sides.

"Yes," they replied.

That seemed to gain the redhead's attention and he had turned back to them so fast that Harry was genuinely concerned about his neck, "Really?!" He gasped as he leaned forward into the compartment some more, his hands gripping the sides of the door tightly. Harry was sure that he would have already given the red head a left hook he wouldn't forget if he had pushed his head and obviously stinking breath towards Hermione.

"Did you hear us wrong?" Demanded Hermione, "because I remember quite that we both said 'yes' quite clear enough for you to understand." Harry's magic reached out to her, calming her down, telling her to not spike her temper because of what they knew his family was up to.

The read his scowled deeply, his eyes alight with a determination that had been different to the one he had a few seconds ago, the one he had for the task of finding the Boy-Who-Lived.

"And who are you?" He sniffed haughtily.

"Hermione," she replied, "Hermione Pot – Granger."

"I've never heard of that name before, you must be new – you must be Muggleborn." Remarked Ronald.

"And I do hope, Ronald, that you don't have a problem with that – even if Hermione was a muggleborn." Harry said as he stood revealing his true eleven year old self to the redhead pureblooded boy.

The boy then huffed and soon he had left the compartment, leaving two teenagers who had no care in the world concerning Ronald Weasley and his stupidity.

… 

He had seen many palaces in the past month, all of them belonging to him and Hermione, and they had been beautiful. But even so, Hogwarts had made him gape as well with her beautiful features. Turrets, torrents, beautiful lighting, and the starry sky background, Hogwarts was a place he could imagine himself physically enjoying to stay.

There was mumbling about him at the front of the door and he was growing more and more agitated at each passing second, wondering when they would stop it.

"It'll pass soon," Hermione reassured him with a squeeze of her hand.

"With you, I'll enjoy life with or without those morons," he whispered back.

She blushed, "You can be really cheesy sometimes Harry," she rolled her eyes.

"Hey, take that back."

"No. You'll have to kiss me first."

"Here?" He asked incredulously.

She thinned her lips as she went into her thinking look, replying soon afterward, "Maybe later, just make sure, okay?"

"Oh, I'll make sure, trust me."

Professor McGonagall returned from where she had left a few minutes ago to be with a roll of parchment in her hands and Harry felt excitement rush through his veins.

"Follow me." She ordered.

… 

He ate as best as he could with one hand as he held onto Hermione's under the table. The people beside him still looking more than baffled to see him next to them in the first place, no less, in blue robes. Hermione held her giggles to herself as she busied herself with eating and tried not to give in to her laughter every time she saw Harry cutely pout to show he was upset about the attention he was receiving.

On the next table, even though the house occupying the table didn't get him in their house was speaking about him nevertheless, especially twins who were redhead and kept saying continuously: "We didn't get Potter?" as though they were trying to tell themselves.

Harry sighed to himself as he dug into his food, very delicious food, it reminded him of the ones he had eaten at the Kingdom of Gryffindor.

He had only spent one night there and had eaten only eater dinner alone because of the hurry they were and Harry could remember that wasn't the most exciting thing about the feast.

… 

He had been uneasy and on edge ever since he and Hermione and the guards had arrived at the castle. And had been more than a little impatient to the guards who were at the gate, who had first demanded them to tell the truth when they explained that he was the new Lord and Hermione was the new Lady of House Gryffindor.

He figured that he had done the right thing in the first place though, for the men there clearly had the opinion that since he was young, that since he wasn't the official age to be a Lord then he wouldn't be able to handle the responsibility that came with it.

He had snapped on them, and even though Hermione had been startled at first when he explained later when they were preparing for the usual feast that would happen whenever he arrived, even though it was almost midnight, she had been quite understanding. Of course, she had been a bit disagreeing because he hadn't awoken her when they had stopped to assess if they were being followed or not, but she had decided to let it pass when he exclaimed with a wink that it was because she was looking cuter than a newborn puppy and he couldn't find it in himself to wake her up.

They had arrived at the feast, going through the back door and into the large hall where all of the adults of the kingdom were, along with the most prestigious individuals of the kingdoms. He had experience by now of course, for they had been to the Kingdoms of the Hufflepuffs, McCullums, and Potter, so he had gotten used to accepting large amounts of magic and power when they pledged loyalty and allegiance. Hermione had been a little unsteady but Harry could tell that his gorgeous wife was getting used to it as well.

The feast had soon begun and the women and men from the kingdom of the Gryffindors – the normal, average folk who occupied the houses surrounding the large castle – had dug in at once with much delight. The men and women who had children needn't worry for their children, for said kids were being taken care of and supervised by houseleves in another, close, room in the castle.

Harry had been on his throne and Hermione had been beside him, both carefully eating and relishing the well prepared meals that had appeared in front of them when they thought of their fancy. Beside Hermione was a man who was the most influential person in the Kingdom below them, he was the man that had been the Regent for the Most Ancient and Noble House of Gryffindor when the last Lord had passed away and now. He was one of the many individuals on the high table that looked very pompous.

Harry had personally requested for the Chief Guard to be by his side during the feast, for he had to discuss something with the obviously trained in combat wizard – besides, the man didn't look uncomfortable when he had been picked by the Lord Gryffindor himself, in fact, the man looked rather delighted.

"Any news?" Harry asked quietly after he wiped his mouth with his napkin, allowing Hermione to hear his conversation with the Chief Guard through their bonds.

Philip's eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head, the man looked terribly upset that he didn't know who the persons were that had obviously tried to assassinate them. "No, my Lord, none. It is quite unfortunate, but I can assure you that this is sadly the first case that someone has gotten away with it."

"There's nothing to worry about, Philip," Harry replied as he sent the man a small smile, "I understand. Besides, it was me who ordered you to continue to move forward. I'm sure that if I hadn't and if you and your team had been allowed to divulge into your expertise, the individuals following us would've now been in our custody. In fact, this concerns something I wish to speak to you about."

"Anything, my Lord," replied Philip.

"I'd like you to train us."

…

Dumbledore's speech at the end of the feast had been really confusing, for he was telling them basically to enter the room he didn't want them to enter. He had made the third floor corridor seem so interesting and exciting that it would actually attract students.

Harry had avoided the man's eyesight, and it wasn't only because he wasn't the best at Occlumency right now. He had seen the man along with the rest of the school be more than surprised when he had been sorted into Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor.

Hermione smiled lovingly at him and he knew that with her and her lovely presence and help he'd get through Hogwarts and he'd help her too.

...

I'm not a great writer, I'm sorry for grammatical errors, or plot holes. Please mention them, if you found any.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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